Lost in Austen Reborn
by Madhubala
Summary: PART II up! After fainting, Amanda Price finds herself transported to her beloved novel, Pride and Prejudice. Will she find her way back home or is she stuck here indefinitely? Mr. Darcy, need I say more. Please review!
1. Fainting in the Loo

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of Jane Austen's creations. Nor do I own the character of Amanda Price from ITV's "Lost in Austen" ... I am simply borrowing them!**

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**Prologue – Fainting In the Loo**

"_Run mad as often as you choose, but do not faint." – Jane Austen_

Allow me to introduce myself, my name is Amanda Price and I am a Jane-ite (or whatever Jane Austen fans are called nowadays). My life as a whole has become routine. I wake up, stare at the wall for a bit (wondering why nothing has changed), brush my teeth and shower, change my clothes and have tea and some biscuits and run off to work. What can I say; I'm stuck in a rut!

I do the whole 9-5 thing and by the time I get home; can think of nothing better than kicking my shoes off and relaxing with a glass of wine and my favorite novel.

Pride and Prejudice!

There is something about that novel that makes me feel as though I am home again. The language, the characters; they all seem to jump off the page and I am not ashamed to say that I hold them close to my heart as dear friends. I often find myself wishing that people still spoke like this instead of the slang that I hear day in and day out. Where has the beauty of speech gone? Where have manners gone?

As I daydream at my desk, I hear a voice call out, "Amanda Price?"

I sigh, for, it is time to bring myself back to reality. "Yes," I look at my boss, Gemma.

She beckons for me to come to her office and as soon as I sit in the chair opposite her; she replies, "There will be a few changes made today."

***

It was not the change that I wished for. I have lost my job with the bank and cannot even focus on my beloved novel.

I just stare at myself in the mirror; thinking how could this have happened. I can hear my phone ringing; however, something has happened and I cannot move. I see my reflection moving; and yet, I am still. My reflection comes out of the mirror and replies, "Oh my dear, but, you seem faint?"

"Who are you?"

"Elizabeth Bennet," says my reflection.

Before I can respond any further or ask myself what would Jane do (Jane Austen to be exact), I promptly pass out on the ground.

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	2. An Unusual Welcome

**Disclaimer: Sorry Jane … borrowing again!**

**Special Thanks: ThisIs – I agree there should be more "Lost in Austen" fanfics!**

**Note: A slightly longer chapter than the first (which was more of a prologue).**

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**Chapter 1 – An Unusual Welcome**

"_A mind lively and at ease, can do with seeing nothing, and can see nothing that does not answer." – Jane Austen_

I wake up to find my surroundings have altered drastically. I can hear voices around me that sound like chirping mother hens. Slowly, I open my eyes to find that I am surrounded by four women, all of whom are wearing cloth rollers in their hair.

"She is awake," cries out the girl closest to me.

"Lydia, do not shout," a calm voice scolds.

Finally, my eyes flutter open to see a beige ceiling with pink roses painted upon the corners. This is most certainly not my apartment bathroom. For, the rules of my apartment complex are that the walls must be white and we cannot even decorate the walls with appliqués and such and hanging pictures are allowed but, sadly, are looked down upon.

Where am I?

"I-"

"Ssh," a soothing voice speaks up from behind the girl in front of me. "You fainted, my dear Lizzy. You must rest."

Whoa! Back up there. Lizzy?

"Oh! My poor nerves," a shrill voice cries from behind the girls. "I know I shan't live a moment longer! I just know it! Not when I had such news to tell Lizzy and she's _fainted!_"

The girl with the calming voice soothes, "But, she will be better in time for whatever news you have."

"W-where am I?" I have the gumption to ask though I know the answer to that question. I knew the moment I heard Lydia's name being called out. I can scarcely believe that I am where I think I am, for, if this is a reality show; it must be one bloody good one.

I'd like Mr. Darcy behind door number one please!

"Oh!" The oldest lady cries out, "It is as I suspected! Lizzy has gone mad!" She holds her heart, "Oh my dear! My failing heart!"

The calm girl and Lydia bolster me up and walk me towards a bedroom. Soon, I am lying upon pillows that are scented with lavender and scored with lace. "Where am I," I ask again.

"Lizzy," Lydia looks at me in disbelief, "you are beginning to frighten me. Do you not you know where you are?"

"I have heard of such cases where people have lost their memory-"

"Jane," Lydia rolls her eyes, "no one loses their memory from having their stays too tight."

No, they just lose an organ or two, I think to myself.

"The predicament is that, dear Eliza, does not remember where she is."

"Well," Lydia bites her lip playfully, "let us ask her some questions then. It shall be great fun."

Yippy?

"Where do you think you are," Jane asks.

"Um," I hesitate, "Hammersmith, London?"

"Oh my," Jane's eyes widen, "it is worse than we thought."

"You are in-"

No, it can't be!

"Hertfordshire?"

Jane takes in a breath of relief as Lydia chides, "I see that some of your common sense still exists."

I sit back in bed; thinking that if I pinch myself; I will wake up and everything will be reality once again. It takes a moment for me to register as I slowly say, "Longbourn?"

Jane raises an eyebrow up, "Yes, Lizzy. That is what our home is called."

"Has Netherfield been let at last?" I ask.

"That would be a joyous occasion to behold, but, alas, Netherfield has been vacant for quite some time," Jane smiles.

"So, this is before the beginning then?"

Lydia pauses, "Before the beginning of what?"

Modern electricity?

"Nothing! Nothing!"

"Lizzy, you are quite out of your senses today." Jane says tenderly, "Perhaps, a short stroll outside will refresh your spirit."

"Perhaps."

We walk outside to see a man walking towards the house. He is of average height and possesses blonde wavy hair. Handsome, and I daresay, would make even a modern girl swoon.

He knocks upon the front door only to be ushered in by our maid.

We both find ourselves compelled to walk back inside the home and we see Mr. Bennet conversing with this man; the door slightly ajar.

"Mr. Bingley," Mr. Bennet smiles, "I would like to invite your family to dine with us at Longbourn."

But, this is wrong! All wrong! We're supposed to meet Mr. Bingley at the ball tomorrow! Not today! And, it was a written invitation … not a face to face meeting!

"This is wrong!" I find myself loudly shouting.

Oh great! And Mr. Bingley is staring straight at me. "Hi," I awkwardly wave.

Mr. Bingley awkwardly waves back, "Hi." He looks back at Mr. Bennet; confused. Jane pulls me aside, "Elizabeth, you should not speak to them unless they speak to you first."

"Them?"

"Men," Jane whispers back. "Perhaps, you should rest. Tomorrow is the ball and you need your strength for that.

***

The ball is not as grand as someone would expect. It is held in what seems to be a decorated farm house with a hearth; heating up the room. The rest of the warmth in the room, I daresay, has been altered by the amount of people. I am in love with the quaintness of the ball room. I keep on peering over my shoulder; thinking that I will meet you-know-who tonight.

I turn to see Mr. Charles Bingley who comes towards me and waves and says, "Hi."

Oh great! Have I started an inside joke with Bingley and I?

"Hi," I wave back; as Mrs. Bennet slaps my hand down with her fan.

"Lizzy, leave waving to the Queen of England," Mrs. Bennet scolds.

I bow and Mr. Bingley bows as well. "Allow me to introduce my sister, Miss Caroline Bingley," Mr. Bingley smiles.

Kitty, Lydia, Mary, Jane and Mr. and Mrs. Bennet all bow and Mr. Bingley and Caroline bow again.

I knew there was a lot of bowing in Jane Austen World, but, I didn't know to what extent, I think to myself.

"I feel that I bring bad tidings," he replies.

"Oh?" I ask.

"My friend, Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, has taken ill."

"Yes," Caroline haughtily holds her head high, "it is all so very sudden and severe."

"Oh!" cries Mrs. Bennet, "How I would have so liked to meet him!"

Nerves, I think to myself. Was she really always this grating?

"Is it bad, do you know?"

"I do not know the full details," Mr. Bingley looks away; focusing on Jane.

I feel that there is something that Mr. Bingley is hiding and do not ask him anymore questions. I move towards Caroline and ask, "How do you like your stay?"

"How do you like yours," Caroline raises her eyebrow.

"I do not know to what you are referring," I try my best to speak 1800s language.

"Surely, you do," Caroline laughs lightly.

"No," I hold my head as high as Catherine will allow, "I am sure I do not. And, you implying I do; is a measure of your character."

"Lizzy," Jane gasps in shock.

From the corner of my eye, I see Mr. Bingley stifling his laughter at his sisters' expense. The look on Caroline Bingley's face is priceless.

"Speechless for once, are we," I say to Caroline before joining the dance reel.

Maybe I am angry that Caroline Bingley; a two-dimensional character … just a name on a piece of paper is trying to control me and tell me my low station in comparison to hers. But, I am very much enjoying my stay. I am also slightly peeved that Mr. Darcy did not have the guts to show.

Believe it or not, I am beginning to doubt of his existence!

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	3. It Will Surely Rain!

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of Jane Austen's creations. Nor do I own the character of Amanda Price from ITV's "Lost in Austen" ... I am simply borrowing them!**

**Special Thanks: ThisIs and ****E****dward is Mine95**

**Note: Had to edit a few things!**

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**Chapter 2 – It Will Surely Rain!**

"_To be fond of dancing was a certain step towards falling in love." – Jane Austen_

Awkwardly, I try to dance and manage to make myself into a bigger fool as Caroline Bingley gossips behind her fan about my lack of dance skill and my apparent lack of everything. As I pass her by, on the way to the punch bowl, I hear her say, "I believe Miss Elizabeth Bennet is not an accomplished woman."

I clear my throat behind her and she turns to face me. Her face grows pale as I smirk, "Today is not your day is it, Caroline?"

I continue my walk towards the punch bowl when I see that Jane and Mr. Bingley are dancing together. I smile to myself as I walk towards them, for, the song has just ended.

"How light on your feet you are, Mr. Bingley!" I comment upon his dancing skills.

"And you," he smiles.

"Oh, I assure you," I admit, "my attempt at the quadrille is excessively clumsy."

Mr. Bingley smiles and says, "I thought you danced divinely."

"Oh," I laugh, "now I know you're lying."

"N-no, I," Mr. Bingley is cut off by Caroline.

"No one can accuse my brother of being a liar," Caroline smiles politely; "I only wish I could be more like him."

"Good luck with that," I walk away from Caroline.

*******

"Mr. Darcy was ill," I confide to Jane. "Mr. Darcy is never ill."

"Do you know him?"

I wish I could tell her how intimately I know everyone in the house and in town. But, how can I? I am stuck in Elizabeth Bennet's body so it seems and I have no way to get back. I could faint again! But, I don't want to faint until I meet Mr. Darcy. Does that make me sad and pathetic?

"I have read about him."

"Read," asks Jane.

"Correspondence," I nod, "You know, letters … that people have written … to me."

"What did they say?"

"For one thing," I laugh, "he's never been sick!" Then, I try my best to justify my statement with a little white lie, "When everyone in Pemberley had a cold; he developed a _slight headache_."

Jane sighs and says, "Mr. Bingley is exactly what a man ought to be."

I smile wishing that I could tell Jane not to worry and that she will end up with him. However, I hardly know if the story will be different from what I've read and the end all be all is throwing me into the equation.

"Do you think he will propose?"

I place a comforting hand upon Jane's shoulder, "It is too soon to tell."

Jane smiles with the glow of a woman that is already in love.

*******

It is finally tea time and Jane can do nothing but sit and stare out the window; her elbow leaning against the window sill; her expression forlorn. She will not eat and will not express any delight in walking to Meryton that Lydia giggles and guffaws at her expense.

"Look at her," Lydia laughs, "sighing and looking out the window; one would think that she was actually in love."

I turn to Lydia, "Do you talk like this in public?"

Affronted, Lydia says, "No."

"Then I assume," I rise to the defense of Jane, "that you should not speak like a street sweeper in your own home as well."

"Don't claim to be so pious, Lizzy," Lydia dismisses me with a wave of her hand; "when I've seen you looking at men."

"That is quite enough from you," Mrs Bennet speaks up. "I shall not have my daughters fawning over men." She stands up and smiles mischievously, "Men should be fawning over you."

I groan in exasperation, "Don't encourage Lydia. She might take your advice to heart."

The maid walks into the parlor room with a letter in her hand and curtsies, "Miss Jane?"

"Huh," I look up from my needlework as I poke myself in the finger yet again.

"A letter has just arrived. It has been addressed to you."

"Oh," Jane looks from the window. "To me?"

I raise an eyebrow, "Already?"

"What do you mean already?" Jane asks.

"I mean," I shrug, "That was fast. Oh, I don't know what I mean. Never mind."

Jane takes the letter from our maid and looks at the wax seal. CB. She gasps and cracks the wax seal open to see Caroline Bingley's perfectly spun letter and begins to read out loud.

Dear Miss Jane Bennet,

Fitzwilliam apologizes for not being able to make the ball last night. He was indisposed when a slight headache turned into a fever (a first for him).

I would like to invite you and Elizabeth to tea at Netherfield at your convenience. The country is so very lonely that I must keep company and hope that you will indulge me and come, for, I would like to get to know you and Elizabeth better.

Charles talks of nothing but, Jane and her superior dancing and the ball as though it were still occurring. How very tiresome indeed!

Cordially,

Caroline Bingley

After she was done with the letter, I look at Jane, "We must go now."

Jane smiles, "We can take the carriage."

"No!" I shake my head; determined to make the story right, "We must go on horseback."

Mrs. Bennet protests, "It will rain!"

"Yes," I smile mischievously, "and we will surely get colds. But, who will take care of us then?"

Mrs. Bennet gasps, "Mr. Bingley for Jane and Mr. Darcy for my Lizzy?" Mrs. Bennet practically pushes us out the door and says, "Stop nowhere for shelter and write once you reach there!"

With the both of us on horseback, we ride off into the rain; thinking it will be a slight drizzle, when in fact it turns into a full-blown thunderstorm. Jane says, "Perhaps, we should turn back?"

"No," I blink away the rain drops; "let us go forth; it is only three more miles."

We finally reach Netherfield and the servant takes our horse to the stable. Once we are inside the house, both Jane and I promptly pass out upon the cold marble floor.

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	4. In the Bedroom

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of Jane Austen's creations. Nor do I own the character of Amanda Price from ITV's "Lost in Austen" ... I am simply borrowing them!**

**Special Thanks: ****E****dward is Mine95, TartanRose, and Daydreamer977! You guys rock for reviewing!!!**

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**Chapter 3 – In the Bedroom**

_My sore throats are always worse than anyone's. – Jane Austen_

I wake to see myself lying in a room with Grecian columns. I peer at the ceiling and think it is odd that someone would paint a Vatican-like mural in a bedroom. But, then again, this is the Era of Extravagance. It is odd that someone would go to such great lengths to show their monetary benefits, for; this bedroom is lined with Grecian columns from ceiling to floor. "If this is the guest bedroom," I think to myself, "then I am in awe of their splendor."

There is a sharp knock upon the door and Mr. Bingley enters my room. I quickly pull my blankets around me and nod, "Hello."

"Why," he seems astonished. "You are faring better than Miss Jane."

"I've had the flu before."

"Pardon me," he looks at me confused, "the flu?"

I bite my lip and lie, "Oh! I must be quite ill! I have just made up an illness."

He laughs, "At least it is not a case of flibbery jibbets."

I smile, "Oh no, that would never do." I look away, "How is Jane?"

"Very bad, I'm afraid. She has a headache and a high fever."

I want to laugh. But, I know I should not, for, in my time fevers and headaches are nothing. 99.9 is not considered a fever anymore and nothing but being close to death can get you out of work for the day.

Then I remember, in my jacket pocket, I had a pair of Paracetamol that the doctor had given me a few days prior; before my little time travel episode. I did not have one for myself, but, as my immunity system was stronger than Jane's; I figured that I did not need it.

"May I have my jacket?"

"Yes," Bingley crosses towards an armchair; where my jacket is. He walks towards me and hands me my jacket. I rummage through the pockets and pull out the tablets.

"What is this?" Mr. Bingley asks.

"Paracetamol, please give this to Jane with water now." I hand him the tablets, "It will bring down her fever."

"What about you," he asks.

"Pff," I scoff. "I'm fine. My immunity system is – I am stronger than she is. She is delicate."

Bingley obliges and leaves with the tablets. I close my eyes and go to sleep. However, in a few hours, I suddenly begin to feel as though I am suffocating and for some strange reason; I wake up to find that my fever was quite higher than before. In the darkness, I see the outline of a man; sleeping rather uncomfortably in an armchair.

He wakes up with a start. He stands up and places the back of his hand upon my forehead. He mutters something to himself, but, all I can hear is the word: foolishness.

I cannot make out his face and I am too delirious to study him. But, I go back to sleep, for, there is something comforting in his touch (as gruff as his voice sounds).

***

The next day, I find that I am a little better. I clean myself (the best I can without proper running water) and change my clothes. I walk downstairs and can hear people talking at the breakfast table. Mr. Bingley stands up as I enter the room.

I nod and Bingley inquires, "Are you well?"

"I am better." I smile, "But, not well. How is Jane?"

"Her fever is gone; thanks to the Paracetamol." Bingley smiles, "She has gone to town with my sister."

Another man enters the room as soon as I sit down. I awkwardly stand up and curtsy. He bows and looks away from me as he sits down. He focuses intently upon the wall.

Goodness! He looks furious!

He seems familiar to me. Yet, I cannot place it.

Bingley pats the man upon the back and says, "Ah! Darcy! How are you this morning?"

"Quite well," Darcy says and nothing more (in a gruff voice).

Then it hits me, "You nursed me back to health. Didn't you?"

Mr. Darcy seems taken aback, "The untowardness of your abrupt statement is something that I will not abide even if you are feverish."

I look down; confused, "It was a simple question, sir. Did you or didn't you?"

"Miss Elizabeth," Darcy concludes, "your questions lack the propriety of an accomplished woman. I trust you understand that I will not answer you."

I sit back down; "Pray, Mr. Bingley, when will you hold a ball in Netherfield?"

I look away from Darcy's glare as Bingley says, "As soon as you will allow it, Miss Elizabeth!"

"Well, then," I smile, "I allow it!"

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	5. Sweet Lark

**Disclaimer: Still don't own a thing! Amanda Price is ITV's and everything belongs to Jane Austen!**

**Special Thanks: EdwardisMine95, thank you for reviewing so consistently!**

**Note: I usually post a chapter a week but, felt like posting another chapter! :-D**

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**Chapter 4 - Sweet Lark**

**_"I do not want people to be agreeable, as it saves me that trouble of liking them." - Jane Austen_  
**

Jane and I stay upstairs while Caroline and the men are downstairs playing cards. Bingley had insisted that the sick bed be brought down every morning and upstairs every night; however, I could not get better under Darcy's unwavering glare and I did not wish to be even more of a burden than what Caroline believed us to be.

Truthfully, I fear Darcy's eyes, for; I do not know why he detests me. Most modern women have taught themselves to never cry in public and I am a firm believer in this practice. But, I fear that if I face Darcy again, I shall surely cry!

It is like he can shoot laser beams with those eyes! If only kryptonite were real!

Jane turns towards me, "Let us go downstairs, Lizzy."

I look at Jane and shake my head, "I can't."

"Lizzy," Jane looks at me in confusion, "what will they think if we stay up here?"

I look away, for, I have never feared any man. I did not even fear my ex, Michael, even though he had quite a temper on him. But, I saw too much of Michael in Darcy that I, at once, did not wish to face him again. Though Darcy was more romantic and eloquent, they were both men and I fear, both thought of women as better off domesticated.

Finally, I oblige Jane, however, I feel queasy as we walk downstairs (and I am hoping that it is just the flu). We walk into the parlor room and Darcy and Bingley both stand up and bow. I nod towards them and towards Caroline.

Bingley smiles, "We have decided to hold a ball next week, for, we think that you both shall feel better by then."

"God willing," Mr. Darcy smirks at me.

I stare at him in confusion, for; I cannot tell if that comment is a "smolder alert" or a sarcastic jab at my expense. However, the intensity in his eyes makes me wonder if he hates me or is attracted to me or both. Oh my head is spinning!

Caroline looks at me, "It is better to make the ball two weeks from now, for, Miss Elizabeth is quite flushed."

I look apologetically at Darcy and he quickly looks away from me. He seems even more furious towards me. I feel hot tears flowing from my eyes and cannot bear to look at anyone.

Bingley looks at me and barks at Caroline, "Must you?"

"I only stated the obvious," Caroline haughtily sighs as she goes back to playing solitaire.

I look away and can feel Mr. Darcy's eyes upon me. Jane takes me gently by the arm, "She just needs to rest. We shall see you at dinner."

"How emotional they seem," I hear Caroline say, for, she thinks we are out of earshot.

"It is better to have emotion," I hear a gruff voice respond, "than to be sensitively hindered."

"Did Darcy just defend us from the Dragon Lady," I think to myself as I smile.

***

Once it is dinner time, I am back to my jovial self. I wear the prettiest dress I can find and though it is not as stylish as Caroline's; I am certain I can rock this outfit with aplomb!

There is no one downstairs yet and as I walk in; Mr. Darcy comes in from the other entry. "Poor thing, he seems frightened of me," I think to myself.

He hastily bows and I curtsy, but, trip over my own foot. He rushes over and places an arm around my waist to steady me. A very strong arm!

If there were a trap door, why could it not appear now? I have just tripped in front of Mr. Darcy! _The_ Mr. Darcy!

I do nothing, but, look at him and he stares into my eyes. His hand lingers over mine for what seems like an eternity and before I know it, he pulls me up; closer towards him. I can smell his scent; of vanilla and clean linen. He does not seem to understand how close he is to me as he asks me, "Are you well?"

I take in a deep breath, "Yes. I am fine. I just had a clumsy moment."

Did I say too much? Probably.

He looks at me again and then, I fear, the same intensity enters his eyes. Why do you do this to me? I want to scream at him! But, I remind myself that I am not Elizabeth and that it is not up to me whether or not Darcy likes me.

He pulls my seat out for me, "Miss Elizabeth."

I sit down, "Mr. Darcy."

He walks towards the other side of the table and motions for dinner to be served. I look down at the plate that is set before me and see oysters. I think I am going to puke!

"I'm not really big on seafood," I admit.

"Please bring Miss Elizabeth the next course."

Another plate is set before me that looks even worse than the second; for, it looks like little birds that were found dead in the lawn! I get queasier by the minute until I just reply, "You know, I think I'll just have the dessert?"

"Miss Elizabeth," Caroline enters the room, "is the food not good enough for your extravagant tastes?"

"Please bring Miss Elizabeth the dessert," Mr. Darcy ignores Caroline's comment.

"Hardly extravagant," I say to Caroline, "I just prefer to eat light."

"And, dessert is light," Caroline questions my diet.

"Yes," I say, "a lot lighter than your three course dinner."

A full tray of desserts are presented before me as Caroline chides, "Oh that is very light, I assure you."

I ignore Caroline and choose an éclair from the selection. "Well," I smile, "if I am to enjoy what I eat then I might as well start off with the most exciting dish."

"Miss Elizabeth has a sweet tooth," Darcy inquires.

"Yes," I smile at Mr. Darcy, "I am of guilty of that."

A small smile appears upon Mr. Darcy's lips and slowly fades under Caroline's watchful eyes. Caroline breaks the silence, "I hear that you are quite talented, Miss Elizabeth."

"At what?"

"Singing." Caroline lies, "They say she sings like a lark."

"A dead lark, I assure you," I laugh.

"Well then," Mr. Bingley smiles, "we have some entertainment after all."

"When I say I sing like a dead lark," I humbly defend my position, "please understand that this means that I cannot sing well!"

"What woman cannot sing," says Darcy, "who does not possess such a melodic voice?"

Did Darcy just compliment me? Smolder alert number 2!

***

"I wish dinner were longer," I say to Jane as she takes me by the arm.

"You will do fine," says Jane, "just sing what you know."

"That's what I'm afraid of," I say to Jane.

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	6. Love Story

**Disclaimer: Still don't own a thing! Amanda Price is ITV's and everything belongs to Jane Austen! And, the lyrics belong to Taylor Swift**

**Special Thanks: Edward is Mine95 (for another wonderful review), Fire Dolphin, This Is, and ****PeOtIcalLyPtheTic**

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**Chapter 5 – Love Story**

"_My good opinion once lost, is lost forever." – Mr. Darcy in Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen_

We enter the parlor room. It was similar to my guest room; however, boasted golden velvet lined walls. I touch the velvet with my hand under Darcy's scrutinizing stare. I turn away from the wall and see that all are looking at me.

"Miss Elizabeth," Caroline smiles saccharinely, "will you do us the honor of beginning our little concert?"

"I," I nervously look down, "I don't know what to sing."

"Sing whatever you like," Caroline presses. "We are all friends here."

What is with this woman?! I mean, when I say I cannot sing well I sure as bloody hell mean it!

"Perhaps," Darcy suggests, "Miss Caroline should accompany her."

"Is that a challenge," I think to myself. "Mr. Darcy," I smile, "that will not be necessary."

I begin to sing as I stand in front of the pianoforte (which is just a fancier name for a piano).

_We were both young when I first saw you.__  
__I close my eyes and the flashback starts:__  
__I'm standing there on a balcony in summer air._

Caroline whispers to her brother, "I thought that she said that she could not sing."

Bingley whispers back, "She said that she could not sing _well_."

_See the lights, see the party, the ball gowns.__  
__See you make your way through the crowd__  
__and say hello;_

I look at Darcy as I sing this song and for some strange reason, I find myself compelled to never look away. Our eyes lock as I continue singing.

_Little did I know__  
__That you were Romeo; you were throwing pebbles,__  
__And my daddy said, "Stay away from Juliet."__  
__And I was crying on the staircase,__  
__begging you, 'Please, don't go.'"_

Darcy's normally expressionless face seems pleasantly surprised as he and Bingley exchange smiles. Caroline, however, seems on the verge of tears. I suppose her little experiment has gone awry.

_And I said,__  
__"Romeo, take me somewhere we can be alone.__  
__I'll be waiting; all there's left to do is run.__  
__You'll be the prince and I'll be the princess__  
__It's a love story - baby just say 'Yes.'"_

My eyes lock with Darcy's once again. He smiles at me; almost tenderly, but, I fear that I may be reading too much into things.

_So I sneak out to the garden to see you.__  
__We keep quiet 'cause we're dead if they knew.__  
__So close your eyes; escape this town for a little while.__  
__'Cause you were Romeo, I was a scarlet letter,__  
__And my daddy said "Stay away from Juliet,"__  
__But you were everything to me; I was begging you, 'Please, don't go,'"_

_And I said,__  
__"Romeo, take me somewhere we can be alone.__  
__I'll be waiting; all there's left to do is run.__  
__You'll be the prince and I'll be the princess__  
__It's a love story - baby just say 'Yes.'__  
__Romeo save me - they're tryin' to tell me how to feel;__  
__This love is difficult, but it's real.__  
__Don't be afraid; we'll make it out of this mess.__  
__It's a love story - baby just say "Yes.'"_

Darcy looks away as if he is guilty of something. But, I cannot tell if he is trying to hide something or if he is angered that the lyrics are about love (which is probably an unexplained theory to Darcy).

_Oh, oh.__  
__I got tired of waiting,__  
__Wondering if you were ever comin' around.__  
__My faith in you was fading__  
__When I met you on the outskirts of town,__  
__And I said,__  
__"Romeo save me - I've been feeling so alone.__  
__I keep waiting for you but you never come.__  
__Is this in thy head? I don't know what to think-"__  
__He knelt to the ground and pulled out a ring and said,__  
__"Marry me, Juliet - you'll never have to be alone.__  
__I love you and that's all I really know.__  
__I talked to your dad - go pick out a white dress;__  
__It's a love story - baby just say 'Yes.'"__  
__Oh, oh. Oh, oh.__  
__'Cause we were both young when I first saw you..._

I curtsy and humbly reply, "That's all."

Bingley, Darcy, and Jane stand up and clap jovially. Caroline sits still in the background; her face seeming a little shell-shocked. Bingley comes up to me, "I hope you find your Romeo." Darcy steps closer and smiles, "I believe she shall."

Smolder alert number 3!

"What a humble songstress you have turned out to be," Caroline smiles smugly as she walks towards me.

I look over at Darcy, but, he looks at Caroline and says, "Will you be gracing us with your singing as well?"

Caroline laughs, "Not when we have a far superior singer in our midst."

"Oh no," I look at Caroline, "I'm not-"

Darcy and Bingley walks towards the middle of the room where there is a decanter holding red wine. Jane watches Bingley with a shy smile upon her delicate features.

"I know what you are," Caroline pulls me away as the men fill their glasses with wine.

I jerk my arm away, "And what am I?"

"You are a mere diversion." She shakes her head with a sly smile and she sizes me up, "But, no man is diverted for long."

"What are you talking about?"

"The fortune that you aspire," Caroline sends me a smug look, "may not look your way. But, your talents may bring you some benefits."

"With 27,000 a year," I counterattack, "I don't think I will need benefits from _any man_."

I walk away; leaving Caroline in even more shock. I think I can get used to life here. I walk towards the wine decanter and Mr. Darcy turns, "Pray, would you like a glass?"

"Oh no," I smile, "I believe Jane and I should turn in for the night and get our beauty rest."

"Beauty rest," Bingley laughs, "is something that you and Miss Jane do not need. Do you not agree," Bingley turns towards Darcy. Darcy sends Mr. Bingley a look that could possibly burn coal.

God, I know what's coming! He will say that I am tolerable, but, just _barely_. He will say that I am _not enough to tempt him_.

But, Darcy says nothing and just nods in agreement with Bingley. It is probably better that he has not said anything and has spared my pride the torture of being wounded.

Jane blushes and quietly says, "Thank you."

"Good night gentleman," I say as Darcy smiles at me.

As we walk upstairs arm in arm, Jane whispers to me, "Mr. Darcy though rough on the outside is a good match for you."

"I suppose he is," I look behind and see that Mr. Darcy is watching me as I walk upstairs. My heart stops for a moment. No one is looking as he watches me until Caroline walks behind him and whispers something. I look away and continue my walk upstairs.

***

At the breakfast table, Jane and I announce that we are feeling much better and will leave in the afternoon. "So soon," Mr. Darcy asks quietly.

"Not a moment too soon as far as I am concerned," Caroline smiles tempestuously at me.

Jane looks down; feeling embarrassed as I send Caroline a reproachful look, "We are very sorry to have overstayed our welcome. Instead of leaving this afternoon, I believe it is better to leave this morning."

Jane and I stand up from our seats and I curtsy, "We shall retire to packing our belongings."

Just before we exit the room, I hear Mr. Darcy scold Caroline, "That was badly done, Caroline. Very badly done."

Mr. Bingley meets us on the stairs and smiles, "Have you two already had your nourishment for the morning?"

"Yes, we have," Jane smiles at him.

"Ah!" Mr. Bingley smiles, "That is very important. First meal of the day and all."

What an awkward man!

"We will be leaving this morning for Longbourn."

"So soon," Mr. Bingley mirrors Darcy's words as he looks at Jane.

"In Caroline's words," I roll my eyes, "Not a moment too soon."

"Did she say that," asks a shocked Bingley.

"Are you at all surprised?"

"Not really. No," Mr. Bingley smiles. "Sometimes, I think she has a romance with her own voice and wants to hear nothing but that. Other times, I think she has a grand scheme of using her own words as a tool to manipulate and raise her own status."

"Probably both," I say as I continue to walk up the stairs.

Jane goes into her room and I go into my guestroom. But, once I go into my room, Mr. Darcy walks in and shuts the door behind him.

I look at him, "What are you doing in here?"

"Forgive my impropriety," he awkwardly nods towards me, "But, I came -"

"Into a ladies room unannounced?"

Mr. Darcy stands in front of me speechless for a moment. "I shall finish what I came in here to say," he continues; looking away.

"Yes," I look up at him, "But, please do so with the door open or do you actually want people to get the wrong idea about me. God knows Caroline would love that!"

Flushed with what seems to be a mix of anger and frustration, Mr. Darcy opens the door and says, "Your carriage is waiting for you, Miss Elizabeth."

I guiltily look down, "Mr. Darcy, I -"

He cuts me off, "Good-bye Miss Bennet."

He slams the door shut; causing an ornamental picture to fall onto the floor and shatter. I cringe at his temper and think, "I shall be cross if I dream of him tonight."

Insufferable sod!

Even though I am stuck in the role of Elizabeth Bennet, I know that a proper gentleman ought not to walk into the bedroom of a lady without a proper explanation. What will people say once they find out?! My ex, Michael, would say "Let them say what they want." My mother would say, "Why did you turn him away?!" And I would say, "Because he walked into my bloody bedroom!"

***

Jane and I say our farewells to Caroline, Mr. Bingley, and Mr. Darcy. But, before we leave, Jane goes to Mr. Bingley and I go to Mr. Darcy.

Jane tells Mr. Bingley, "Do not be a stranger. Do call on us more often."

"I will be over every day if it be allowed."

Jane blushes, "If not, then we shall see each other at the Netherfield Ball next week."

"Yes," Bingley smiles.

I smile to myself as I hear them talk and go towards Darcy. He looks down at me as I curtsy, "Farewell Mr. Darcy."

He bows rather curtly and turns away; walking towards the mansion. Awkwardly, I look away and bite my lip to hold back any tears. The least he could have done was said the word 'Farewell' and he couldn't even manage that.

My mind reels to a quote in Pride and Prejudice: _"No," said Darcy, "__I have made no such pretension. I have faults enough, but they are not, I hope, of understanding. My temper I dare not vouch for. It is, I believe, too little yielding— certainly too little for the convenience of the world.__I cannot forget the follies and vices of others so soon as I ought, nor their offenses against myself. My feelings are not puffed about with every attempt to move them. My temper would perhaps be called resentful. My good opinion once lost, is lost forever."_

"Oh dear," I say to myself, "have I messed up the book already?"

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	7. The Odious Mr Collins

**Disclaimer: Still don't own a thing! Amanda Price is ITV's and everything belongs to Jane Austen!**

**Special Thanks: EdwardisMine95 and Fire Dolphin!**

**Note: ****This is my longest chapter yet! 21 pages in word! ROTFL Contains some quotes from Lost in Austen in the end**

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**Chapter 6 - The Odious Mr. Collins**

_"If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more." - Emma Woodhouse from Emma by Jane Austen_

Once the carriage starts to move, Jane turns to me, "Mr. Darcy seemed sad to see you go."

I look out the window; my back to Jane, "Oh? Was he? I did not notice."

There was something wanting in the way that Mr. Darcy conducted himself with me during my brief stay at Netherfield and I confess that I wanted something more substantial. I wanted to finally, in all my twenty-eight years, to have been swept off my feet. My voracious mind had read all those fairy tales and love stories and I had wanted to experience that. I wanted to have something other than _deep like_ with someone. I wanted to feel appreciated and loved for who I was; not who I_ could_ be!

But, that was obviously not going to happen.

No matter how hard I tried to lend a hand; the story would not work itself out and I felt that I was stuck here for good.

After some silence, Jane says, "Lizzy, are you not excited about the ball next week?"

With my back turned to Jane, I reply, "Yes."

"Yes, you are not excited," asks Jane.

"Yes," I look out the carriage window, "I am excited."

I say this with false sincerity. For, I shall have to face Darcy at this ball and fear that nothing good will come out of it. I can see the ball unfold in my mind. I shall most likely say something that will offend Darcy and he will most likely say something that will cause me great discomfort and offense that I at once, fighting scruples, will wish to throw him out the window.

In silence once again, I watch the English countryside whisk by me. I can hear the carriage wheels rubbing upon the tan dirt road. In the distance, I can hear white collared doves whooping in the distance. The smell of fresh bread permeates through the atmosphere from a small cottage in the distance. I see a shepherd standing upon the downs; flanked by his sheep. Next, I see a small brook; cascading through a hill; only to stop by a bed of wild flowers.

"Dear Eliza," Jane says calmly, "turn around and talk to me."

I turn towards Jane, "Yes?"

"You have been so quiet," Jane's brow crinkles.

I turn away as tears enter my eyes. I focus upon the landscape once again as my voice shakes, "Yes, I know."

"Lizzy," Jane asks; worried, "what is wrong?"

I turn towards Jane as tears flow out of my eyes, "Nothing. I am fine."

"Lizzy," Jane looks at me in concern.

"I am fine," I quickly wipe my eyes with the back of my hands.

Jane takes hold of my hand and does not say a word until we reach Longbourn. I confess that despite how homely Longbourn might seem; it provides me with a sense of warmth that the coldness of Netherfield did not.

Netherfield boasted dozens of Grecian columns and tapestries and velvet brocade walls, but, did not have an inkling of life in it. Though there were people that resided in Netherfield; it seemed more like a failed museum that none venture to. Frankly put, it was a little too rich! Longbourn was warm and inviting and though Mrs. Bennet meddled here and there; she was a far better companion than Caroline Bingley. Longbourn was not as vogue as Netherfield, but, it did have what Netherfield lacked and that was a warm hearth, down-to-earth people, and most of all, _love_!

When the carriage stopped by the drive, I saw that Mr. and Mrs. Bennet were standing in the front along with Lydia, Kitty, and Mary. "Did you get engaged yet," was the first thing out of Lydia's mouth.

"Good morning to you too," I say grumpily as I exit the carriage only to have Mrs. Bennet look at me.

"Have you been crying Lizzy dear?"

"What?" I look down, "No."

"Your eyes are rather bloodshot and swollen," Lydia peers at me.

"Is there anything that you would like to discuss," Mrs. Bennet asks.

I think for a moment that it would be good to talk to Mrs. Bennet about what is going on. But, I shake my head, "No. I am fine."

I know that if I told Mrs. Bennet that I _liked_ a man. She would ask who and then would turn into the matchmaker from hell.

"We have had a rather long journey," I say to everyone.

"Oh! Do have tea with us," Kitty pleads.

I look at my _substitute family_ and shrug, "Yes. I shall have tea, but, after that I need my rest."

We assemble in the sitting room. Mary sits at the piano; practicing sheet music that she had purchased from Meryton. Mrs. Bennet sits in front of Jane and I; watching us like hawks. She wants to know all the details; however, there is nothing to discuss or nothing that I care to divulge.

The maid comes into the parlor room with the tea serving set and sets the tea set in front of Mrs. Bennet. She curtsies and leaves the room. I watch as Mrs. Bennet pours seven cups of tea and leaves it up to us how much sugar and cream we would like. It is a very informal gathering as we all congregate at a small card table.

I place two lumps of sugar into my tea cup as Mrs. Bennet watches my every move. When she turns around, I place a third sugar cube into my tea cup and look at Mr. Bennet. A smile appears upon his lips as I mouth the word _Ssh_. He nods with a smile and places two lumps into his tea cup. Once Mary is done with the cream, she hands it to me. I look at Mrs. Bennet and finally she sighs, "Lizzy, will you not tell me what went on?"

"What Mrs. Bennet means is," Mr. Bennet teases his wife, "will you tell me every detail?"

"Mr. Bennet, how you tease," Mrs. Bennet giggles. Mrs. Bennet turns to me, "Yes! I must know every detail!"

"What shall I begin with," I distractedly blow on my tea, "The stables were in quite good condition. The horses seemed very happy to be part of such richness and decency."

Mrs. Bennet's jaw tightened, "Lizzy, you make fun now, but, when you have your own daughters; you will know that getting them married is a business in itself."

"Who said I was going to have daughters," I ask as Kitty and Lydia begin to giggle.

"I dislike all this talk of children," Mrs. Bennet blushes.

"Why?" I tease, "You brought this topic up."

"Because I am your mother," Mrs. Bennet's face turns red, "Let us comment on the weather or something less trivial."

"Certainly," I look out the window, "Shall I give a play by play weather report? Or, shall I just say that it shall rain and leave it at that?"

"Oh Lizzy!" Mrs. Bennet cries, "How you do prey upon my nerves!"

"The details," I look to see that Mrs. Bennet has completely forgotten about her nerves as she leans over; eagerness spread across her plump features. "Mr. Bingley is a very pleasant man and down-to-earth. Caroline Bingley, in my opinion, is very pretentious and thinks very highly of herself. Mr. Darcy is the male version of Caroline. These are the details as simple as they are, but, are details nevertheless."

"It is a pity," Mrs. Bennet frowns slightly, "That Mr. Darcy may seem so proud."

"His manners are not wholly blemished," Jane speaks up, "He has flaws as any man and Lizzy ought to look past that."

"Jane," I shake my head, "he is monstrously uncouth and thinks it proper manners to not say _farewell_ to guests."

"I should like to meet this man," says Mrs. Bennet, "so that I may see for myself how mistaken you are, Lizzy."

"You will have the chance next week," I smile, "for, Mr. Bingley is throwing a ball at Netherfield."

Lydia and Kitty jump up from their seats and start squealing in delight. "I must sort out my dress right away," Lydia takes a sip of tea.

"You have one week and that is an ample amount of time. Sit down," Jane laughs, "finish your tea."

Lydia and Kitty oblige Jane as they both sit down. However, they both look at each other again and squeal like the overindulgent girls that they are.

Lydia takes another sip of tea, "I must get a new dress. I just must."

"What is wrong with your white dress with the bows on the sleeves?" Jane asks.

"Everyone has seen me in that," Lydia sighs.

"Why don't you put a ribbon around the waist?" I ask.

Lydia sighs, "We are not so poor that I cannot purchase a new dress. Are we that destitute?"

Mrs. Bennet shakes her head, "Destitute, I should think not! All my daughters will have new dresses for this ball."

Mr. Bennet groans and hides his face behind his tea cup. He is, no doubt, thinking of the money involved in what is, undeniably, a meat market.

***

The next morning, Jane and I, take a stroll through the country side. When we return, we find a man of short stature; standing outside, his fingers pressed against his nostrils and inhaling deeply. "Oh goodness," Jane swings to the side of the house; taking me along with her. "It is our cousin, Mr. Collins."

"Mr. Collins?" I gasp, "But, he doesn't come until Chapter Thirteen!"

"Chapter Thirteen," Jane sends me a confused look.

"I am probably in need of rest," I lie as I peer at Mr. Collins.

"Shall we pretend that we are not home?"

"We cannot," Jane frowns. "Father knows that he is coming. He has written to us. I did not know that he would come so soon."

"Is there another way to get inside the house?"

"Through the servants' door," Jane smiles.

"Then," I smile, "We shall run upstairs and avoid Mr. Collins for the better part of the evening."

"If only we could avoid him for a week," I think to myself.

***

What is there to say about Mr. Collins? He is boring! He makes me want to yawn out of turn. He swears by the bible and carries a pocket size book of sermons in his coat pocket just so he can preach at any given moment. But, worse of all, he wants to marry one of us!

Dinner with him is a most abhorrent task. He eats like a cow; side to side. I look away and start folding and unfolding my napkin; a quirk of mine that I do especially well at boring banquets.

"Everything he says sounds like a sermon," I think to myself.

Mary clears her throat, "There is a ball next week at Netherfield Park."

"Hmm," Mr. Collins pauses for a moment as if his brain cannot function without taking a long pause to think. He brings his fingers to his nose and deeply inhales. "What wonder balls can be," he says with an air of false manners. "And you," he looks at me, "what do you think of dancing?"

I raise an eyebrow up, "I only come for the food."

Mr. Bennet snickers as he pretends to focus upon his plate of food. Mr. Collins seems affronted, "Surely, you cannot mean that a young lady such as yourself does not care for dancing."

"Lizzy lives for dancing," Kitty innocently adds in.

"Kitty," Jane scolds, for, she understands why I am so apprehensive.

"I cannot dance," I look down.

"Oh," Mr. Collins looks his nose down at me. "What a pity!" He turns towards Jane, "Pray, do you dance?"

Jane looks at me and I quickly reply, "No. Her ankle is sprained."

"Is it," Mr. Collins' features change from creepy to creepily concerned. "Shall I ascertain it for breaks?"

"No," I stand up from my chair and hold up my hand before he can touch Jane. "It's quite all right. I've already ... um ... _ascertained_ it. Thank you."

Once dinner is over, we move towards the fireplace and are forced to listen to another boring sermon from Mr. Collins. I yawn and Mr. Collins turns towards me, "Miss Elizabeth, I take it that you are not dutiful."

I scoff, "How do you define dutiful? A farmer may not have as much time to be as dutiful as a clergyman, but, that does not make him any less pious than the clergyman."

Mr. Collins pauses to form what I believe to be a very long sentence. I stand up and pull Jane up along with me, "We are to bed. It has been a very tiring and I daresay, _dutiful_ day."

Mr. Collins bows with a flourish of his hand as Jane and I curtsy. "What a foppish coxcomb," I hear Lydia whisper to Kitty.

Once Jane and I are in the bedroom, she turns towards me, "What shall I do now?"

"What do you mean?"

"My ankle is supposedly sprained, Lizzy!" Jane laments, "How am I to dance with Mr. Bingley now? Shall I lose my chance?"

I shake my head, "We never said how bad the sprain was!"

Jane takes in a deep sigh and I place an arm around her, "Even if your ankle were broken, which it's not, Mr. Bingley would give up dancing just for you. That's how much he loves you."

"Are you certain?" Jane asks.

"Quite certain."

***

We met quite a few colorful characters on our way to Meryton, but, one stuck out like a sore thumb.

Mr. Wickham.

What can I say about Mr. Wickham ... a well-known rake! A cad! A scoundrel! A libertine!

I could make a list!

Yet, he states that he and Darcy had a fall-out that was a huge misunderstanding. He says that he will not be attending the Netherfield Ball (much to Lydia's dismay and protests).

***

It is the morning of the ball and everyone is running about the house like chickens with their heads cut off.

"Where are my lace gloves?" Lydia shouts from the top of the stairs.

"In your hands," I shout back.

"Oh!" Lydia laughs, "So they are!"

Everyone is busy, but, Mr. Collins, Mr. Bennet and I. I have already laid out my dress (it is olive green and black) and my hair is fine the way it is, however, Jane seems to have a desire to do my hair in curls.

Mr. Collins looks at me disapprovingly and Mr. Bennet looks back at him with a wary eye. I look at Mr. Bennet and then at Mr. Collins.

I roll my eyes and snap at Mr. Collins, "What are you staring at?"

"Should you not be busy making yourself special for the ball?"

Oh! I am not above kicking this man!

"Should you not be busy making yourself scarce," I snap back while Mr. Bennet watches us in amusement.

"I confess," Mr. Collins continues; slightly offended, "that Charlotte Lucas painted a rather different portrait of you."

I stand up, glaring at him, "Well, she lied and you might be better off considering her."

Mr. Collins turns towards Mr. Bennet, "You should have better control over Miss Elizabeth."

Oh! I want to hit him! I want to punch him! I can feel my hands forming into fists!

Mr. Bennet speaks up, "I would never control my daughter. She has a good head on her shoulders and can think for herself. That is all she needs." Mr. Collins looks away; his face red with embarrassment.

When we are finally dressed up, Mr. Collins states that all of us would make a pretty painting. "Whatever Collins," I think to myself, "Blah, blah, blah. Let's just go to the ball!"

Mr. Collins states that we will need to take two _barouches _(as he so eloquently puts it) and he suggests that Jane and I ride with him.

As we near the ball, my stomach begins to feel queasy. It is a feeling that I have not had since my first day of school. I look at Jane, "I do not feel good."

"What is wrong?"

"My stomach," I look down, "I think I am nervous."

Jane looks at Mr. Collins (who is watching us with utmost curiosity). She leans towards me and whispers, "Darcy?"

I nod, "Yes."

"Don't worry," she whispers, "you'll be fine. There will be many people there and you might not even see him."

I take in a deep breath as I exit the carriage. I walk into the mansion and see several people are already dancing. I take hold of Jane's arm as Mr. Bingley and Miss Caroline come up to greet us.

Bows and curtsies are exchanged as my eyes scan the room, "Are you looking for anyone?"

I shake my head, "No."

Miss Caroline smiles and looks beyond where I am standing, "Mr. Darcy." She curtsies.

I turn around and see Mr. Darcy standing behind me. I curtsy and Mr. Darcy bows, "Mr. Darcy."

"Miss Elizabeth." His eyes gaze into mine.

My heart stops for a second and feels as though it is burning. It is a nice feeling and yet, it scares me at the same time. It feels as though my heart is going to explode (either that or I have a seriously dangerous case of heart burn).

He looks at me; tenderly, "How have you been?"

I look away, "Good. And you sir, how have you been?"

"Good," he mirrors my words.

I smile and look away; shyly, "Mr. Darcy, I-"

Caroline interrupts, "Mr. Darcy, I have met a few guests that I would like to introduce you to."

Mr. Darcy looks at me as I smile at him; his eyes fill with hope. Mr. Darcy bows and I curtsy. He leaves with Caroline to mingle with some guests that Caroline obviously believes are worth his time.

I turn towards Jane and find that she is already dancing with Mr. Bingley. I watch them dance as I lean against the threshold and notice that, from across the room, Mr. Darcy is watching me.

I unfold my fan and smile shyly at him. A few men come my way to ask me to dance. I oblige and Mr. Darcy watches me, for, I am not dancing my best, but, at least I am dancing.

Finally, Mr. Darcy starts to walk closer towards me. I walk outside to the balcony and close the French doors behind me. I turn around when I hear the French doors open. Mr. Darcy comes out from them.

"Mr. Darcy."

"Miss Elizabeth."

"You are out here alone," Mr. Darcy states.

"Yes," I smile, "But, please don't tell Mr. Collins.

"It is our secret," he sends me a small smile.

I smile, "I believe you just smiled."

"It will not happen again, I assure you."

"Oh!" I smile, "But, you should smile more. It becomes you."

Mr. Darcy's features turn slightly pink as he breathes in and softly replies, "Miss Elizabeth, I-"

The French doors open again and I hear a familiar voice, "Oh! There you are Mr. Darcy!"

I turn around to see Caroline Bingley, "Miss Bingley."

"Miss Elizabeth."

"Mr. Darcy," Caroline smiles, "Charles is looking for you."

"What is it now?"

With that, I am left alone on the terrace once again. I turn away and wonder what Darcy meant to tell me. The French doors open once again and I turn around with a smile; hoping that it is Darcy. But, my smile fades once I see Mr. Collins standing where Darcy ought to be.

"Mr. Collins."

"Miss Elizabeth," he bows, "May I have the next dance?"

I look away, "Why not ask Lydia or Kitty? I am in no mood for dancing."

"Dear cousin," he looks at me, "what is wrong?"

I look away, but, Collins is no fool. He moves closer towards me and sees that tears are falling out of my eyes. Quickly, I wipe my tears away, "What?"

"Mr. Darcy just came from here," he inhales deeply; fingers to his nostrils. "Did he upset you?"

"No," I look away.

"Then, what is wrong, dear cousin?"

"Nothing!" I look at Mr. Collins, "I think I just need to be left alone. I hope you understand."

"No. Not in this state," Mr. Collins pauses for a long while. "I will tell Mr. Darcy you are crying. You two must be close; being outside without a chaperone."

"No!" I shake my head, "Don't do that! Just leave this situation as is."

"Upon my honor," Mr. Collins shakes his head, "I cannot do that!"

Mr. Collins leaves the balcony and in a few minutes; the French doors open and then close. I turn around to face Mr. Darcy. He looks away from my tear-streaked features (as though it causes him pain) and asks, "Are you well, Miss Elizabeth?"

"I am fine," I look away.

He walks towards me, "Shall I stay with you a little longer?"

My shoulders begin to shake as I place my hands to my face; for, fear of being noticed. I have never cried in front of anyone in my life; so why now? And, why in front of _him_?

Mr. Darcy places an awkward hand upon my shoulder. "Shall I stay with you a little longer," he repeats the question.

"Only if you want to," I look up at him.

"Do you want me to," he asks.

I look down, "Yes."

He stays by my side and I can smell his scent again; vanilla and clean linen. I look up at him and find that he is looking down at me. "I apologize," I look away, "I am usually not like this."

"Is something wrong?"

"Nothing I wish to discuss," I look away, for, he is the reason that I am in such a state. "I met a Mr. Wickham last week. He says that you two are friends."

Mr. Darcy removes his hand from my shoulder and glares at me, "We are not."

"Acquaintances?"

"Miss Elizabeth," Darcy glares down at me, "what are you trying to uncover?"

"Are we at that part already?" I mumble to myself.

"What part are we at?"

"Nothing of consequence," I unfold my fan and smile.

Mr. Darcy looks at me slightly amused, "What would you have me say, Miss Elizabeth? For, I have found something of great interest."

"What?"

"You," he seems rather pleased with himself. "You are not what you seem."

I scoff, "I can't disagree with that." I sigh, "Look, I know you have a very poor opinion of me. That's the way you are at the moment and that's okay. But, one day, Mr. Darcy, you will thank me."

"In the meantime, Miss Elizabeth," he walks closer towards me, "you must content yourself with a warning. If you try my temper, you will find that-"

"Your good opinion once lost is lost forever," I shyly smile behind my fan, "I know."

The ball is in my court! Team Darcy = 0. Team Amanda = 1!

Now that I have him on his toes, I wipe my tears away and look up at Darcy, "I feel much better now. Thank you." I curtsy and leave a mystified Darcy in the dark.

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	8. The Great Disappointment

**Disclaimer: Still don't own a thing! Amanda Price is ITV's and everything belongs to Jane Austen!**

**Special Thanks: EdwardisMine95****, Fire Dolphin and This Is!**

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**Chapter 7 – The Great Disappointment**

"_Next to being married, a girl likes to be crossed in love a little now and then." – Jane Austen_

After the party, Jane and I stay up to discuss the ball. She and I sit on the bed and talk about Darcy, Bingley, and Caroline as though they are dear old friends.

"He danced every dance with me," Jane sighs with a dreamy smile.

I smile as she continues, "And when I rested my feet, he would not dance and stood next to Darcy."

"Mr. Darcy," I shake my head.

"He would do well for you," Jane suggests. She looks in the distance, "Imagine, you and I, married a mere month apart! It would be less of a burden for mama."

I pause, "Is that how you feel? A burden?"

Jane does not answer and I continue, "You are anything but that. Jane, _mother_," I struggle saying the word mother, "does not mean to come across the way she does. She only cares very deeply about us."

"I know." Jane sighs, "If only I knew how Bingley felt."

"He loves you."

"If only I knew," Jane's smile fades into anxiety.

"Perhaps," I conclude, "he shall visit tomorrow."

Jane smiles, for, she is holding onto any hope I give her. But, in the pit of my stomach, I feel an uneasiness that I cannot explain.

"Mr. Darcy," I look away, "was a complete waste of my time."

"What happened?"

I tell her what happened on the balcony and sigh, "He told me that I am not what I seem."

Jane shakes her head, "He is not who he seems."

"He seems frightened of me," I look at Jane. "But, that is not the Darcy that I know."

"Lizzy," Jane seems confused, "how do you _know_ Darcy?"

I pause, "Through … um … correspondence." I lie, "I have read things in letters … here and there. They say he's very upfront and shy at times. But, he just never struck me as the type of man that would run from problems."

"But," I think to myself, "he ran away when he left Netherfield."

***

I wake up the next morning to see Jane crying in the armchair. I turn to my side in bed and ask, "Jane? Why are you crying?"

Jane shakes her head, "Here. Read the letter. I don't mind."

I take the letter into my own hands and see Caroline Bingley's writing. I know very well what the letter states and do not read further. "Are they leaving Netherfield Park?"

"Yes," Jane nods; letting the tears cascade down her cheeks.

"Bingley loves you," I reassure her.

"Lizzy," Jane looks down, "I do not want to get my hopes up. He is leaving and I must reside myself with the idea that Bingley was never interested in marriage."

"They leave this morning," I look at the letter.

"Yes."

"I am to go for a walk," I say as I get out of bed.

***

I take a walk all the way to Netherfield and see that there are two carriages waiting at the drive. I see Bingley; his eyes bloodshot. "Mr. Bingley," I walk towards him.

"Miss Elizabeth." He looks away from me.

Finally, I sternly reply, "Jane is very sad that you are leaving without saying good-bye."

"I," Mr. Bingley chokes on his words and trails off.

"Why don't you do something about this? Why did you give up on Jane?"

Bingley places a hand to his forehead, "Miss Elizabeth, please. I have suffered enough."

"You have suffered enough!" I shout, "What about Jane?" I calm down, "It was badly done. What kind of a man runs away?"

I pause with realization that Darcy is the one who runs away. Bingley inhales deeply as a few tears escape his eyes, "It is my fault. What can I do, Miss Elizabeth?" Bingley cannot look me in the eyes, "For, I am only the puppet."

I clench my jaw, "And your puppet master?"

Bingley continues to look down without saying another word. I walk away from Bingley and into the mansion. I finally see Mr. Darcy standing by a window. "How proud of himself he seems," I think to myself.

"You're better than this," I plead. "I know you are, Fitzwilliam!" I struggle to find proper words and fail, "Why are you acting like a total git?"

Mr. Darcy stands by the window as I continue, "Since when does having no money mean that you are a bad person? You have no right to ruin their love because of an accident of birth."

"There is no accident in birth."

"Do you know why I am so angry," I cry out.

Mr. Darcy smirks, "You were born thus."

"Because my heart has your name written on it," I say as my voice shakes. "There I have said it! What are you going to say to me now? I am prepared for whatever you will say."

There I admitted it!

Silence.

God! Here it comes!

"Is this interview concluded? It is so difficult to tell."

I was not prepared for that as I cringe from the hurt. My heart begins to feel like it is bleeding. Tears of embarrassment fall from my eyes, "You are such a disappointment that I can hardly bear to look at you."

"A deprivation I shall endure as stoically as I can," Darcy says with calculated coldness.

"You are so relentlessly unpleasant. I just can't get at the real you," I say without meaning to sound irritating.

Darcy swiftly turns towards me and shouts, "Madam! Behold, Fitzwilliam Darcy. I am _what_ I am. If you find yourself unable to _get at _an alternative version, I must own to being _glad_."

Mr. Darcy continues to shout, "I despise the intrusions of a woman so _singularly_ dedicated to mendacity, disorder, and lewdness. They _repel_ me." He looks into my eyes and his voice softens, "You _repel_ me. You are an _abomination_, madam. Good afternoon to you."

He angrily bows and leaves the room. I watch him leave and my hands form into fists. In the silence of the room, I spit out, "_Hateful man_!"

***

Crying myself to sleep won't do! For, it seems that ever since I have gone back in time, that crying is all I ever do! "I am better than this," I tell myself.

Jane walks into the bedroom after brushing her teeth with the chalk, salt, and birch twig concoction. Oh! I miss my toothbrush!

Jane looks at me and smiles, "You seem tired."

"I will not cry," I think over and over as if in prayer. I look up at Jane, "He was so mean to me."

"Who?"

"Darcy," I scoff, "who else."

"You went to Netherfield?"

I look away, "Yes."

"Why did you not tell me sooner?" Jane sits on the bed, "I could have said good-bye."

"You didn't want to be there," I sigh, "trust me."

"Well then," Jane tries her hardest to smile, "tomorrow is another day and there is much to look forward to."

***

The next morning, I sit next to Jane and Lydia as we have our breakfast. I pour myself a cup of tea and place a hot scone upon my plate and smear honey and butter onto it.

Mr. Collins walks down the steps, "Hello my dear cousins. I trust you all slept well."

Instead of saying anything, Lydia takes a sip of her tea, Mary walks away from the table to play on the piano, Jane and I take bites of our scones, and Mr. Bennet has not looked up from his reading. Mrs. Bennet all looks at us as if rather cross and smiles at Mr. Collins, "Have you slept well?"

Mr. Collins smiles, "Yes. Thank you."

Everyone goes back to their business; completely ignoring the fact that Mr. Collins is still standing. "I would like to request to speak to Miss Elizabeth."

"You have my permission," Mrs. Bennet smiles.

"Alone. I would like to request to speak to Miss Elizabeth in private."

I nearly choke on my tea and stand up, "I'm sorry. But, I know what's coming and-"

However, before I can say anything more, the breakfast room is now empty and I am alone with Mr. Collins. I look away as he gets down on one knee, "Lady Catherine told me to seek out spirit and I found it. Will you do me the honor of being my wife, Miss Elizabeth?"

"Get up!" I demand, "Get up now!"

Mr. Collins gets up and takes my hands in his. I jerk away and say, "No. I will not marry you."

"I understand that you might like to keep an air of mystery. So, I will ask you again, will you marry me?"

"Crotch sniffer!" I say with all the gumption I can manage.

Mr. Collins' eyes widen as he places his fingers to his nose and inhales deeply, "Is it that obvious?"

"Yes. It is obvious." I look him in the eye, "I will not marry you because I cannot marry someone whom I do not love."

"Love is a luxury, Miss Elizabeth, which will come in time."

"Not where I come from," I say with dignity. "I will not learn to love my husband and I most definitely will not learn to love you. I am quite certain that I cannot make you happy and I am saving you from utter demise. Good day, Mr. Collins, and here is some advice … look to Charlotte Lucas."

***

Mrs. Bennet will not talk to me; however, Mr. Bennet is rather happy that his daughters did not have to marry Mr. Collins after all. Mrs. Bennet believes that my headstrong and foolish ways have finally ruined the family for good. But, I believe otherwise since I know this novel and at least did something right! But, even I am beginning to think that there is no way home and I am stuck here indefinitely.

* * *

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	9. The Surprise

**Disclaimer: Still don't own a thing! Amanda Price is ITV's and everything belongs to Jane Austen! The song lyrics belong to Skeeter Davis or The Herman's Hermits (depends which version you like better)**

**Special Thanks: EdwardisMine95, Fire Dolphin and the voice of!**

**Chapter 8 – The Surprise**

_"Surprises are foolish things. The pleasure is not enhanced, and the inconvenience is often considerable." – Jane Austen_

I sit in the parlor room; watching the rain tap against the window. Mr. Collins is reading from his book of sermons and all are beginning to tire from his monotonous voice. "Bueller, Bueller," says my mind as I sit upon the window seat; watching the rain.

I feel an indescribable ache in my heart with a longing for something more. The pain of picking up the shards of a broken heart has enveloped my soul. I cannot bear to look anyone in the eyes for fear that they know my pain. Every time a family member places a soothing hand to my face, I think to myself, "Do they know that I was rejected?"

I want to tell someone about my rejection and yet, I cannot, for, Jane has had her own and I must bottle this up inside for now. Lydia sits next to me, "Why such a long face, Lizzy dear?"

I smile, "It is raining."

Mary sits next to me, "Perhaps, we should go for a walk once the rain stops."

"We should go to Meryton!" Lydia cries out, "For, the regiments are arriving."

"Regiments, regiments, that's all I ever hear about!" Mary sighs, "What are men compared to rocks and mountains?"

I meet Charlotte Lucas for tea the following afternoon and she tells me that she fears she will never get married. For, she is seven and twenty years of age.

Charlotte laments, "I fear that I have already become a burden."

I shake my head, "No. You have not. There are several men in town that are perfect for you."

Charlotte sighs, "However, most men in town are too young, too old, or alas, already married! I do not ask for much just that I find a man that can take care of me as I will take care of him."

"There is one," I whisper.

Charlotte leans towards me, "Yes?"

"Mr. Collins," I smile.

"Your cousin?"

"Yes." I whisper, "He has a parsonage of considerable size in the country which is next to Lady Catherine's estate."

"But," Charlotte sighs, "he has already proposed to you."

"I rejected him."

"Why?" Charlotte asks.

"I didn't love him."

"You must guard yourself," Charlotte whispers back, "For, there has been talk that you have thrown yourself to Mr. Darcy."

I gasp, "I have thrown myself to no one!"

"That is not what Caroline Bingley has been saying."

I scoff indignantly, "Of course! I should have known that she was behind the rumor."

The wedding of Charlotte Lucas and Mr. Collins was intimate and simple. Charlotte wore white (of course) and Mr. Collins looked as though he had stepped out of church on Sunday. It was simple and beautiful at the same time.

"You must," Mr. Collins turns towards me, "accompany us to the parsonage. It would be good for you."

"Good for me?"

Charlotte and Mr. Collins turns towards me. Mr. Collins smiles, "Mrs. Collins and I have noticed your _depression_. We think that travel would do you good and a change of scenery would be beneficial."

I smile, "Mr. Collins, thank you for being so considerate."

"It is the least I can do," he nods towards his wife, "for the person that has introduced me to my lovely wife."

I am staying at Mr. Collins' parsonage and find it rather calm and a nice change of pace. I am having tea with Charlotte as Mr. Collins enters the room stating that we have just received an invitation from Lady Catherine to dine with her tonight.

Charlotte and I immediately get up from where we are sitting and begin to get dressed. I did not know that I would have to go to many parties and so, have only brought plain dresses.

"What shall I wear?" I ask Charlotte.

"The purple satin dress is most agreeable though plain," Charlotte suggests.

I wear the purple satin dress and Charlotte wears a simple grey gown. Soon, it is time and we proceed to cross the lawn.

The butler opens the door and ushers us into a large foyer. He walks towards a very large parlor room (where a refined woman is sitting). She nods towards him and the butler nods towards us (as though he were ushering traffic instead of humans).

We walk into the room and Lady Catherine peers at me. More guests enter the room and she turns around, "Ah! Fitzwilliam, there you are."

"Aunt," he bows.

Once he enters the room, my heart skips a beat and I look away; feeling flush. "Fitzwilliam," Lady Catherine scolds, "do not glare so! One would think you were angry," she looks over at me and then at Darcy.

"Let us have music," Lady Catherine smiles. "Who shall play for us?"

Caroline Bingley smiles, "Miss Elizabeth cannot play the pianoforte. Yet, I have a firsthand account of her voice. She sings like a lark!"

"You are acquainted with Caroline and Charles," Lady Catherine sends me a pleased smile.

"Yes," I look off of Darcy's glare.

Lady Catherine looks at me, "Will you do us the honor of gracing us with your voice?"

I bite my lip, "Lady Catherine, I confess that I cannot sing well."

"I have it on high authority that you sing beautifully."

I sigh and walk towards the front of the room. I can feel Darcy's glare as though he is throwing hot coals at me.

I clear my throat and begin to sing.

Why does the sun go on shining  
Why does the sea rush to shore  
Don't they know it's the end of the world  
'Cause you don't love me any more

Darcy looks at me and his glare begins to fade away. I cannot bear to look at him and look away. I focus on the wall in front of me.

Why do the birds go on singing  
Why do the stars glow above  
Don't they know it's the end of the world  
It ended when I lost your love

But, I find myself compelled to look back at him again. He seems conflicted and stands up as though wanting to walk out of the room. But, instead stands by the wall and watches me where no one will be looking at him.

I wake up in the morning and I wonder  
Why everything's the same as it was  
I can't understand, no, I can't understand  
How life goes on the way it does

Why does my heart go on beating  
Why do these eyes of mine cry  
Don't they know it's the end of the world  
It ended when you said goodbye

I look away from Darcy. For, I am weary of not knowing where I stand with him.

Why does my heart go on beating  
Why do these eyes of mine cry  
Don't they know it's the end of the world  
It ended when you said goodbye

I curtsy and smile as everyone claps. Lady Catherine smiles, "What a beautiful and unconventional voice you have, Miss Elizabeth!"

I smile, "Thank you, Lady Catherine."

I sit back down and Mr. Darcy sits next to me. He says, "It is, as you are perfectly well aware, quite impossible for you to be here."

I smile, "Not impossible, for, I am here. If you would like to, then send me back to the parsonage, for, this excursion has turned into a nightmare."

"Nightmare?"

I look away, "Yes. _Nightmare_."

Dinner is over and I have returned to the parsonage. I have just received news that Mr. Darcy wishes to speak to me. "Could this not have waited," I whisper to Charlotte (who has given me the message).

"It seemed urgent, Lizzy."

I sigh, "I was about to get ready for bed!"

"You ought not to keep an important man like Mr. Darcy waiting," Charlotte shakes her head.

I sigh and walk downstairs; my stomach doing flip-flops the whole time. I see Mr. Darcy standing alone in the parlor room, "You wished to speak to me, sir?"

Mr. Darcy looks away; flushed, "I am," he swallows nervously, _"concerned_."

"I don't quite understand."

Mr. Darcy continues; emotionally, "You came to this house knowing that you would be brought to Lady Catherine's, knowing that I would be there, knowing _full well_ the _abysmal disregard_ in which I hold you."

I open my mouth to speak, but, Mr. Darcy continues, "Why, when I am, as you_insist_, so _relentlessly unpleasant_ to you, do you persist in seeking me out? "

I raise an eyebrow, "But, I didn't seek you out, sir. You came to me."

"Why," he asks with a furrowed brow.

"I don't know what you're talking about!"

"You must know," Mr. Darcy says with desperation as his eyes glimmer in the candlelight. "I do not know why and my lack of comprehension," Mr. Darcy shuts his eyes as he chokes on his words, "is _tormenting_ me."

"Mrs. Collins needs me," I quickly curtsy, "Good night."

Mr. Darcy swiftly walks towards me and grabs me by both shoulders. My breathing quickens as he looks into my eyes. "Are you quite sure that this is what you mean to do," I ask as he lingers there for awhile; debating.

The door to the room opens and he lets me go; I turn to see Charlotte standing there. She seems a bit shocked as he bows and walks out of the room (obviously to think some more).

"He is in love with you," Charlotte states.

"No," I shake my head, "He can't be! Not after the way he's been treating me," I look back at the way Darcy has left. "He-he can't be!"

"And yet," Charlotte smiles, "no man would have done and said what he did tonight if it were not love."

"I wish I never came here!"

Charlotte looks at me, "But, you have found out Mr. Darcy loves you and-"

"It is too intolerable!" I look away, "I will leave for home tonight."

Charlotte shakes her head, "Lizzy, you should sleep on this. If you feel the same way tomorrow-"

"I will feel the same tomorrow." I look down, "I have made up my mind."

I change my clothes and pack my belongings. The carriage is ordered for me. I hug Charlotte good-bye and tell her that I will write. She smiles, "But, now it is you that is running away."

I take in a deep breath, for, I know that she is right and I may be making a mistake. But, I need to show Mr. Darcy that, first of all, his running away has affected me and secondly, that his constant changefulness is a bit odd, for, I don't know where I stand (especially after tonight).

As my carriage dashes past the dark scenery, I hear a large crack and feel myself being hurtled around. I find that the carriage wheel has broken. "I am so wishing for roadside assistance right now," I say to myself.

I hear strange sounds and turn around to see a group of gypsies approaching me. They look at the carriage and see that there is luggage on top. But, a closer look tells me that they are not gypsies, for, they are highway men! There are three of them.

I try to run; however, one of them grabs my arm. I scream and break free as I run back towards the parsonage only to hear the rapid beating of horse hooves upon the pavement. I am lifted up and look up to see Mr. Darcy.

I am given a cup of warm tea and a blanket across my shoulders as, Mr. Darcy, paces the room back and forth. "Why would you think you could leave alone at this time of night?"

Caroline Bingley (oddly enough) looks up and states, "Darcy, do you not think you are being quite harsh."

I peer over at Caroline; confused, "I thought you would have wanted me to leave."

Caroline laughs lightly and looks away from Lady Catherine's watchful eyes, "Heavens no! I am, by no means, sympathetic to your station, however, that does not mean we cannot be acquaintances."

Lady Catherine sniffs huffily, "That is enough from you, Caroline."

Charlotte Lucas and Mr. Collins rush into the room, hastily curtsy, and dash towards me. "I should have never let you go alone," Charlotte whispers.

"So," Darcy turns towards Charlotte, "it was your doing."

I speak up, "Mr. Darcy, she had nothing to do with it. It was I who wanted to leave."

Mr. Darcy dismisses everyone, much to Lady Catherine's chagrin, and closes the door to talk in private. "Why?"

"Because," I shrug, "I wanted to!"

"You wanted to leave?"

"That was the general idea, yeah," I smile sarcastically.

"Miss Elizabeth," Darcy walks towards me and hesitates, "Could you forgive me?"

I stand up, "For what?"

"I have …," Mr. Darcy trails off. "I was wrong to separate Charles and Miss Bennet."

I look away, "Is it not too little too late?"

"Miss Bennet is not engaged," Darcy asks.

"No, she is not."

"It was shameful of me. I beg your propitiation for it." He seems like a little boy asking for forgiveness as he says, "Prove to me that I am forgiven," his eyes fill with hope and sincerity, "come to Pemberley. My sister, Georgiana, has want of company. You can stay as long as you like and we can leave now, if you would like."

Pemberley is more glorious than any movie has ever depicted! It shines when there is no sun and when there is sun it soaks it in; allowing not a single ray of sunlight to go overlooked.

I have come here at Mr. Darcy's request to be Georgiana's companion for the season. Even though my luggage has been accosted by the highway men from last night, Darcy tells me that Georgiana and I can go to town to buy some items for me. I shake my head, "No. I cannot take such liberties."

"It is not a liberty for a good friend."

I find the garden of Pemberley to be incredibly beautiful. And, I begin to take morning walks through the maze before breakfast. I see Mr. Darcy standing beside the fountain; staring forlornly into the depths of the man-made pond. I walk towards him and curtsy, "Mr. Darcy."

"Elizabeth," he takes me by the shoulders. "I have labored so long in the service of propriety."

"What would people say?" I shake my head, "You must not."

"Wherefore must I not? Who is to judge us?"

"Caroline Bingley for starters," I begin.

"You are the one I love," Mr. Darcy says with resolved seriousness.

"It has been settled," I tell Mrs. Bennet and Jane. "Jane is to marry Charles Bingley and I am to marry Mr. Darcy."

Mrs. Bennet is so happy that tears flow from her eyes, "I shall notify all of town that my eldest daughters have done so well for themselves!"

Our wedding is outdoors in the gardens of Pemberley where Darcy first declared his love. My dress is simple. It is of fine white cotton and satin. It is embroidered in satin stitch and knots down the middle of the skirt and on the bodice. I wear a veil over my face and watch the procession from the door that leads to the courtyard. I see that the priest, Darcy, and Bingley (the best man) are already waiting at altar on the right side.

Jane turns to me, "I wish that it were me!"

I smile, "It will be."

Jane, my maid of honor, makes her way to the front on the left side. I can see Bingley watching her and Jane smiling shyly as though nothing has changed. Mary, Kitty, and finally, Lydia, walk down the aisle; arm in arm with the groomsmen.

Finally, the flower girl and ring bearer come down the aisle side by side.

I take in a deep breath and hold onto Mr. Bennet's arm. Mr. Bennet looks at me, "I could not bear to let my Lizzy go. But, he is suitable for you."

I laugh nervously, "Suitable?"

It is time as I descend down the stairs towards the fountain. The orchestra begins to play. Mr. Bennet leads me to Darcy and takes his seat next to Mrs. Bennet.

I look over at Mr. Darcy and the priest begins, "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today in the presence of these witnesses, to join Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn and Mr. Darcy of Pemberley in matrimony, which is commended to be honorable among all men; and therefore – is not by any – to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly – but reverently, discreetly, advisedly and solemnly. Into this holy estate these two persons present now come to be joined. If any person can show just cause why they may not be joined together – let them speak now or forever hold their peace."

Suddenly, I begin to feel as though I am being pulled away; against my will. Darcy looks at me as though confused, for, I am being pulled through a portal. People get up from their seats; screaming and Mrs. Bennet is hitting the portal with her fan; thinking that doing so will cause it to stop. Darcy takes hold of my hand, "Elizabeth? Elizabeth!"

The priest runs away; claiming that the power of Christ would compel me. Finally, I am pulled even deeper into the portal and can see the other side of my life. I see my mother, Frankie, and my best friend, Pirhana as they cry. On the other side, I see Darcy, frightened out of his mind, "No! I cannot lose you. Not now!"

I get pulled deeper into the portal and Darcy shouts, "ELIZABETH!"

He vanishes and so I have given up fighting the portal and let it suck me back into my dreary world.

My dreary existence.

I open my eyes only to find that I am staring at a white ceiling. A television is close to the ceiling; hanging on a bracket; playing the latest episode of Hollyoaks.

I see Pirhana and my mother; sleeping in armchairs across from me and I take in a deep breath. My mother wakes up and takes in a deep breath, "Thank god!" My mother rushes towards me and covers me in kisses until I have to tell her to stop for fear of suffocation. "Amanda, love," my mother brushes my bangs away from my eyes, "We were so worried."

I look down at my hands, for; I can feel a pricking pain. I notice that there is an IV in the back of my hand. I think of Darcy, all alone without me, and place my hands to my face as I begin to cry.

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	10. At the Hospital

**Disclaimer: Still don't own a thing! Amanda Price is ITV's and everything belongs to Jane Austen!**

**Special Thanks: Fire Dolphin, Edward is Mine95, This Is, ****SerenaRocks997**

**Chapter 9 - At the Hospital**

"_It is not time or opportunity that is to determine intimacy;-- it is disposition alone. Seven years would be insufficient to make some people acquainted with each other, and seven days are more than enough for others." – Jane Austen_

I think of Darcy, all alone without me, and place my hands to my face as I begin to cry. My mother and Pirhana sit on either side of the bed. They look at each other as though they haven't a clue on what to do.

I miss Darcy! Was he even real or was he just my imagination? Was my mother right in saying that I spent too much free time reading Pride and Prejudice?

I stare at the white ceiling. The smell of pine scented cleaning solution enters my nostrils as I cough.

What if he was not real? No! No! I was going to marry him!

"Wh-what's happened to me?"

"Pirhana found you out cold in the bathroom."

Pirhana smiles, "Hey, sleeping beauty."

I smile weakly, "Hey."

"What happened to me?" I ask again.

"The doctor said that you had pneumonia."

"No," I shake my head, "I didn't have pneumonia."

Pirhana and my mother exchange looks. "Come on," I ask in exasperation, "what is it?"

"The doctor said that your pneumonia could have killed you. You weren't even bothering to treat it."

I look away from Pirhana, "I didn't know I had it."

"He said that you could have been depressed about something and you didn't know you had it because you confused your sickness with your depression."

"I lost my job."

"That's probably why you were depressed," Pirhana soothes.

I don't have the strength to argue, for, I know that Pirhana is probably right. So, I ask, "How long was I out?"

"Only a few minutes," my mother whispers.

A few minutes? But, when I was with Darcy, it felt like I had been gone for a year!

"Why are you whispering?"

"The person next to you," my mother gestures towards the curtain partition, "has been out for a month and a half."

"Oh," I whisper.

"We spoke to his family," my mother whispered.

I look away as my mother continues, "He was in a car accident and has been in a coma ever since."

"He's actually kind of cute," Pirhana smiles.

"Not cute," my mother looks at Pirhana. "Blindingly handsome is more like it."

I smile weakly, "No."

"What," Pirhana whines.

"No, I mean it." I look back at the ceiling, "I'm not up for a relationship. At least not yet."

Not unless it's Darcy, I think to myself.

"What's this guy's name," I point to the curtain partition.

"Leigh Pember or something like that," Pirhana scrunches her nose; something she does when she's trying to remember details.

"Oh," I nod; trying to change the subject. "How long do I have to be in the hospital for?"

"Maybe another week," mother says. "You've really neglected yourself."

"I know," I look out the window, but, since I am lying down all I can see are the tree branches; reaching out for the sky.

An impossible dream.

Soon enough, visiting hours are over and Pirhana says good-bye. I request that my mother stay with me. I hold my mother's hand, "I love you."

She leans forward to give me a kiss on the forehead, "I love you too." "I'm sorry," I say as though that would make everything better.

"For what?"

"I don't know," I try to blink the tears away.

"Don't think about your job," my mom says; thinking that I am crying about my lack of profession. "Humans weren't given a sense of humor for nothing," she smiles.

I smile back and lay my head down to rest; hoping that I can go back to Darcy. But, alas, my dream is nothing extraordinary until I hear him again. "Elizabeth? Elizabeth, where are you?"

"Here," I mutter in my sleep. "I am here!"

I wake up to the sound of someone buzzing the nurse and my mother looks at me. "What is that," I ask.

"Your neighbor," she looks at the curtain, "just woke up."

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	11. Someday You Will Be Loved

**Disclaimer: ****Disclaimer: Still don't own a thing! Amanda Price is ITV's and everything belongs to Jane Austen! Nor do I own the song "Someday You Will Be Loved" by Death Cab for Cutie.**

**Special Thanks: Fire Dolphin, ****SerenaRocks997, This Is, and Edward is Mine95!**

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**Chapter 10 – Someday You Will Be Loved**

_The enthusiasm of a woman's love is even beyond the biographer's. – Jane Austen_

"Your neighbor" she looks at the curtain, "just woke up."

I take in a deep breath and look at the curtain. "You need your rest, love," my mom turns towards me.

I oblige her request by closing my eyes and not getting up until the doctor comes in to tell me that I am well enough to be taken home. I look back at the curtain and nod to the doctor, "Okay."

I am helped up by the doctor and my mom. When I look back, I see that the curtain had been pushed back at bit, but, all I see are his closed eyes. These eyes seem so familiar to me. I turn swiftly and my mom catches me, "Are you all right?"

I look back, but, the curtain has been pulled back by the nurse that is tending to him.

Am I seeing things?

"I'm fine," I lie as I look back; hoping Darcy will be there.

But, then I shake my head. "He's not real," I try to convince myself. "But, how can it not be real?"

My love for him is real. He has to be real!

I have decided to never speak to anyone about this, for; there is none that will understand. Who would understand that I nearly married a fictional character? They would think me crazy and put me in a different kind of hospital.

Soon, my mother and I are in the car. She turns the ignition and a song comes softly through the speakers.

I once knew a girl  
In the years of my youth  
With eyes like the summer  
All beauty and truth  
In the morning I fled  
Left a note and it read  
Someday you will be loved.  
I cannot pretend that I felt any regret  
Cause each broken heart will eventually mend  
As the blood runs red down the needle and thread  
Someday you will be loved

I begin to cry, for, the song is so bittersweet and though it does not capture Darcy; I feel that this is what he must feel without me.

Sorrow.

Despair.

Loneliness.

You'll be loved you'll be loved  
Like you never have known  
The memories of me  
Will seem more like bad dreams  
Just a series of blurs  
Like I never occurred  
Someday you will be loved  
You may feel alone when you're falling asleep  
And every time tears roll down your cheeks  
But I know your heart belongs to someone you've yet to meet  
Someday you will be loved

My mom glances side-long at me, "Okay. What is it? Are you going to tell me or what?"

I shake my head. How can I tell her? She'll think I'm off my rocker! How do you tell someone that you're in love with a fictional character? To me, Darcy is real flesh and blood, but, the circumstances are not in my favor because I do not know if it was a dream or if I actually did travel to a different time.

Meanwhile, the song continues and I express certain unhappiness unbeknownst to me, for, even I do not know the extent of my own sorrow.

You'll be loved you'll be loved  
Like you never have known  
The memories of me  
Will seem more like bad dreams  
Just a series of blurs  
Like I never occurred  
Someday you will be loved  
You'll be loved you'll be loved  
Like you never have known  
The memories of me  
Will seem more like bad dreams  
Just a series of blurs  
Like I never occurred  
Someday you will be loved  
Someday you will be loved

My mother keeps her eyes on the road, "Pirhana wants to take you to this new club that's opening up."

"Mum," I look at the cars whisking past me, "I don't do clubs."

"Maybe you should," my mother suggests.

"Mum, I'm not ready for this."

"When will you be ready," my mother asks.

"When men like Darcy exist," I say with emotion in my voice.

"Sweetie," my mom laughs, "I'm going to give you some advice -"

I groan, "Here it comes."

"Do you want to hear this or not," my mother asks in irritation.

"Sure. Go ahead," I sigh; uninterested.

"Darcy exists in every man," she smiles.

Sadly, that is the wisest thing my mother has told me. She, who is a mother of two, divorced and has resided to redecorating her home, is actually wise! I look back at her, "Yeah?"

"Every man is Darcy," she smiles. "Just give them a chance! All women have a Mr. Darcy in their lives; if they're lucky enough to notice."

"Are you referring to Michael?"

"No," my mother laughs.

"Thank god! I thought you'd never shut up about him!"

"I never really cared for him," my mother smiles. "I just want to see you married before I die."

Even though my mom was joking, I begin to cry. Wishing that I had actually married Darcy, I take hold of my mother's hand, "Don't worry, mum. It will happen."

"I wish you'd tell me what's wrong," my mother parks the car in front of my apartment building.

"Nothing," I shake my head and get out of the car.

I wave good-bye to my mother and she hesitates for a moment; making sure that I get into the building. As I get into the elevator, I receive a text from Pirhana on my mobile.

Hey! There's a new club that I think you'd love! We'll go next month!

I make a face of discomfort, for, I do not do clubs. I text Pirhana; hoping to get an answer by nightfall, for, I am wondering why I would love a club.

Pirhana texts me back.

Just you wait and see! Luv ya, Pirhana!

I sigh and reach my apartment. I put the phone on the charger and lay myself down; hoping to hear his voice again. But, I do not hear him and cry myself to sleep; thinking to myself that someday I will be loved.

***

Next month, Pirhana comes to my house with an outfit that I would never be caught dead or alive in for that matter. The outfit is a silver mini dress with stilettos to match. "Pirhana," I look at myself in the mirror, "you cannot be serious?"

"You look good!"

The truth is, I do look good, but, I was hoping for something a little longer and more "me." "I feel uncomfortable!"

Pirhana sighs, "Fine! Go wear your librarian clothing!"

"Ouch," I smile.

"This outfit," Pirhana winks, "is destined to bring to a man!"

"I don't want any men!"

I want Darcy!

"I knew that you would say that," Pirhana says in exasperation, "so, I brought another dress."

As soon as Pirhana unzips the garment bag, my eyes widen and my stomach clenches with surprise. "I know," Pirhana smiles, "isn't it gorgeous?"

"Wh-where did you get that dress?"

"An antique shop of all places," Pirhana smiles.

The dress is simple. It is of fine white cotton and satin. It is embroidered in satin stitch and knots down the middle of the skirt and on the bodice.

"This was the wedding dress I wore for Darcy," I think to myself.

Then it really did happen!!! He does exist.

***

Soon, we reach the club. The sign reads The Republic of Pemberley. "I suddenly feel déjà vu," I whisper to Pirhana.

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	12. The Republic of Pemberley

**Disclaimer: Disclaimer: Still don't own a thing! Amanda Price is ITV's and everything belongs to Jane Austen!**

**Special Thanks: Fire Dolphin, ****SerenaRocks997, This Is, and Edward is Mine95!**

**Chapter 11 – The Republic of Pemberley**

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"_All the privilege I claim for my own sex . . . is that of loving longest, when existence or when hope is gone." – Jane Austen_

"Déjà vu," Pirhana smiles as though she thinks I am joking with her.

She takes hold of my hand so that neither of us will get lost in the crowd. We walk towards an even larger mass congregating by the gates. The one story brick building looks nothing like Pemberley. It looks more like an urban discotheque. However, as soon as Pirhana and I get inside the club, I realize that it is anything but.

Inside, there are clubbers dancing the quadrille to Lady Gaga (of all things). People are having tea or juice instead of alcohol. Women are actually wearing floor-length dresses and the ballroom floor glistens as though it has just been wiped with pine scented solution. The women sit on one side of the club; waiting to be asked to dance as the men oblige them or stay their distance as they contemplate whether or not cross to the other side.

A chandelier hangs from the middle of the dance floor and shines much like a disco ball. The rest of the club is lit by candles at their tables; giving off an intimate somewhat romantic feel.

A flyer reads: Who says you have to be drunk to have fun? Come to The Republic of Pemberley for an unforgettable night.

Pirhana smiles, "So, do you like it?"

I hesitate; dumbfounded by what I see. "I love it," I muster out.

"I actually like this place," Pirhana leads me to an unoccupied table.

"I didn't think," I smile as I look down at the menu on our table, "that this would be your style."

Pirhana makes a face at me, "A girl can change her mind!"

"As often as she likes," I add in with a laugh.

"Cheers to that," Pirhana high-fives me. "I believe drinks are in order."

"For," I raise a questioning eyebrow.

"You've been through a lot in the past month," Pirhana smiles, "and I just want to toast your strength."

"I'm not that strong, Pirhana."

Pirhana smiles, "You're stronger than you think."

A waiter comes up to us, "What will it be?"

"Mango iced tea for me," Pirhana smiles.

"I'll have the same," I shrug as Pirhana smirks at me. "I've never tried it before."

"Sure thing," the waiter busily scribbles down the order.

"Amanda Price is trying new things," Pirhana smiles. "Does this mean that you're actually going to read something other than Pride and Prejudice now?"

"Baby steps," I laugh. "Who knows, maybe I'll read Sense and Sensibility instead."

"But," Pirhana teases with a fake gasp, "there's no Darcy in that!"

"I know." I change the subject, "Are you going to dance?"

Pirhana shakes her head, "You have to wait for the men to ask you at this club."

As soon as Pirhana says that, a man walks up to her, "Hello. I'm Phil."

"Pirhana."

"Would you care to dance?"

Pirhana looks at me and I wave my hand and laugh, "Go on! Knock yourself out."

Soon, Pirhana is on the dance floor; having the time of her life and I am sipping on my mango iced tea; watching her. I feel someone is behind me, but, do not turn around; thinking that they are watching people dance just like I am. However, when five minutes pass by and I still feel a presence; I turn around.

My eyes widen as I whisper, "Mr. Darcy?"

"Miss Elizabeth?"

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	13. A Sudden Twist of Events

**Disclaimer: Disclaimer: Still don't own a thing! Amanda Price is ITV's and everything belongs to Jane Austen!**

**Special Thanks: ****This Is, ****Fire Dolphin**** and Edward is Mine95!**

**Chapter 12 – A Sudden Twist of Events**

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_"We have all a better guide in ourselves, if we would attend to it, than any other person can be." – Jane Austen_****

My eyes widen as I whisper, "Mr. Darcy?"

"Miss Elizabeth?"

I place my hand to my mouth in shock, "Are you _really_ here? Is it really you? Oh! I've -"

Darcy smiles and takes hold of my hand, "Yes. I am here in flesh and blood."

"But," I look away, "how is it possible?" I point my finger at him, "You have some explaining to do."

Darcy pauses, "I have to put, in plain words, why I am here. But, you must afford me some clarity as to why you have come."

I bite my lip and say in a rush, "I'm not really Elizabeth. I mean, that is," I begin to babble, "I _thought_ I was, but, I knew I _wasn't_ and it's all just become one big, _huge_, confusing mess."

Darcy continues to stare at me; amusement playing at the corners of his lips. He pulls a chair out; gesturing for me to sit down and I oblige. He sits down across from me and leans forward, "How did you come to find yourself in this _predicament_?"

I look away, "Pride and Prejudice has always been my favorite novel. Some people think I'm obsessed with it, but, I am not. There's a line between being _fond of_ something and being obsessed and I believe myself to being on the right side of the line."

"What's the right side of the line?"

"Well, being _fond of_ it, of course," I blush under Darcy's watchful eyes.

"Of course."

"I passed out one night and found myself in Elizabeth Bennet's place. I met you and you were a dreadful, nasty individual at first but, afterwards you seemed all right and then I fell in love with you. After everything, I was sucked back into a portal once I woke up in the hospital."

"Elizabeth," Darcy reaches over the table to take hold of my hand, "I have a confession to make."

There is a pause and Darcy continues, "I am not Fitzwilliam Darcy."

I move my hand away from his and ask, "Then who are you?"

"My name is Leigh Pember."

I try not to think of how close his name is to Pemberley as I ask, "How did you end up as Darcy?"

"About three years ago, April 1, 2006, I was involved in an automobile accident. It nearly took my life and as a result I was in a coma for about three years. I did not know when I would get back and so I was transported from hospital to hospital. I was at my last hospital for a month and a half until I finally woke up."

I think to myself, "He was my neighbor that mother had told me about. Only mother had gotten the details wrong because she told me that he had been out for a month and a half when in fact, it had been three years."

"Three years ago, I woke up in Mr. Darcy's place and I knew that I had much to learn, for, I had never read Pride and Prejudice. I had seen the movie, but, had never read the book. As I was now in his place," Leigh Pember looks at me apologetically, "I had to act accordingly and to ask myself "What would Darcy do?" I was not accustomed to this life but, I have grown to love it and I cannot imagine myself living any other way. Sadly, I shall have to."

I take hold of his hands again, "It doesn't matter. You'll still be my Darcy."

Leigh looks back at me with a small smile, "I made this club in your honor."

"You own this club," I ask.

"Yes," he smiles. "But, I miss the real Pemberley."

"I imagine that you would," I laugh, "after calling that home for three years."

"I wish there was a way that we could both go back to that day-"

"Our wedding?"

He nods as I smile, "I wish that we could." He smiles, "I see that you are wearing your wedding dress."

I blush deeply and nod as he smiles tenderly at me.

Silence.

My brow furrows as I think to myself, "I fainted on April 1, 2009 and he had the accident on April 1, 2006."

"I find it hard to go on with my life now," Leigh continues, "without manners and special details to the smallest things; life seems meaningless. I find it strange how before I lived in these fast times without thinking that once upon a time; people lived their lives with a slower pace."

"I fainted on April 1, 2009 and you had your accident April 1, 2006," I smile, "maybe there's a connection. Was your accident in the morning?"

"Yes, why?"

"I fainted in the morning," I explain. "It's better luck this happened in the morning on April Fools Day!" I smile to myself, "Call me crazy, but, I think a portal opens up every April 1st to Pride and Prejudice."

"But, why April 1st?"

"It is April Fools Day," I smile shyly, "and aren't we all fools in love like Elizabeth and Darcy?"

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	14. The Proposal

**Disclaimer: ****Disclaimer: Still don't own a thing! Amanda Price is ITV's and everything belongs to Jane Austen! Nor do I own "Chasing Cars" by The Snow Patrol.  
**

**Special Thanks: ****This Is, ****Fire Dolphin**** and Edward is Mine95, Natsumi Tsuchi-Ookami, and Marte!**

**

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****Chapter 13 – The Proposal**

_A lady's imagination is very rapid; it jumps from admiration to love, from love to matrimony in a moment. – Jane Austen_

"But, why April 1st?"

"It is April Fools Day," I smile shyly, "and aren't we all fools in love like Elizabeth and Darcy?"

Leigh smiles at me and I feel the same fire in my heart that I did when I thought he was Darcy (but, it could be the fried onions and dip I had that was doing a number on me).

A teenage girl giggles delightfully as she walks past us arm in arm with a boy close to her age. I look at her and quickly look away thinking, "Was I like that when I was a teenager?"

Leigh breaks the silence, "I do not wish to scare you away." He looks away, "If this were under different circumstances, I would be ready with two rings -"

"Two rings?"

"A woman deserves both an engagement ring and wedding band," Leigh nods, "and I am not the type of man to strip you of this privilege."

I begin to giggle like the teenage girl that had so previously passed me by, "Are you proposing?"

"Why?" Leigh raises his brow, "Is that wrong?"

"Oh!" I shake my head, "N-no no! Noooo! I mean, it's not wrong."

Leigh gives me an amused smile, "Let me finish and you may be the judge of whether this is a proposal."

"Ah!" I laugh, "I see you are trying to have an air of mystery about you. You are trying to hold my interest without trying to seem desperate."

He laughs, "No, no. You already have me, my dear. Whatever interest to be held is solely on your part."

"Oh!" I smile gleefully, "That's so cute! You're trying to be funny."

"Yes," Leigh clears his throat, "it shall never happen again."

"Never?" I send Leigh a face of mock shock.

"Let me finish before you ruin the mood."

I bite my lip to keep myself from talking and Leigh continues, "As I said, a woman deserves two rings and I do not wish to take the privilege away."

"Yes?"

"I would like to marry you."

"But, you don't know my real name."

"It does not matter," Leigh shakes his head, "I love you as you are."

"Amanda Price."

Leigh smiles, "I would like to marry you, Amanda Price."

I take in a deep breath, "Would it be … imprudent to hug you?"

"Given the era we are in," Leigh nods towards a girl dressed like Lady Gaga, "I should say that it is fine."

I jump out of my chair and throw my arms around Leigh's neck, "Yes. I want to marry you."

Leigh stands up; pulling me up with him, "You have made me so happy. I have never," Leigh takes in a deep breath, "loved someone as much as I love you." Leigh cups my face with his hands, "I love you, Amanda Price."

"I love you too."

He smiles, "Will you do me the honor of accepting my invitation to dance?" I nod and he leads me to the floor.

_We'll do it all  
Everything  
On our own_

I place my hand on Leigh's shoulder and my free hand in his hand. He places his hand upon my waist.

_We don't need  
Anything  
Or anyone_

He smiles at me and I ask, "What?" He shakes his head, "I am looking at my soon-to-be-wife."

_If I lay here  
If I just lay here  
Would you lie with me  
And just forget the world?_

_I don't quite know  
How to say  
How I feel_

_Those three words  
Are said too much  
They're not enough_

"I love you," Leigh looks down at me. "I feel I must ardently express my love for you by repeating these three words every minute, for, if I lose you again I -"

"That won't happen," I smile. "I love you too."

_If I lay here  
If I just lay here  
Would you lie with me  
And just forget the world?_

_Forget what we're told  
Before we get too old  
Show me a garden  
That's bursting into life_

_Let's waste time  
Chasing cars  
Around our heads_

Leigh smiles; pulling me closer towards him. "If we end up going back," I smile, "will we need to go by Mr. Darcy and Miss Elizabeth?"

"I would assume so."

"To avoid suspicion?"

"Yes," Leigh nods.

_I need your grace  
To remind me  
To find my own_

_If I lay here  
If I just lay here  
Would you lie with me  
And just forget the world?_

_Forget what we're told  
Before we get too old  
Show me a garden  
That's bursting into life_

_All that I am  
All that I ever was  
Is here in your perfect eyes  
They're all I can see_

_I don't know where  
Confused about how as well  
Just know that these things  
Will never change for us at all_

_If I lay here  
If I just lay here  
Would you lie with me  
And just forget the world?_

"What about my mother?"

"Yes," Leigh smiles, "I have thought about that."

"She'd miss me terribly."

"But, you see," says Leigh, "this club is in the exact location that Pemberley ought to be."

"Where are you going with this?"

"I know your mother will miss you. But, that doesn't mean that you cannot correspond with her."

"What do you mean?"

"Even though this is a club," Leigh continues, "part of Pemberley's old library still exists in the back."

"Please explain yourself."

"What is your mother's favorite novel?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Just answer the question," Leigh firmly states.

"She likes The Count of Monte Cristo."

"Every day," Leigh takes hold of my hand, "you will place a letter into the novel. When your mother gets it to read; it will be yellowed with age; but, she will still know that you are well."

"How will she have access to the library?"

"I will give her full ownership of this club."

I laugh and shake my head, "Well, one thing is for certain."

"What is that?"

"You sure do plan ahead," I smirk, "literally.

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	15. All Good Things Must End

**Disclaimer:****Disclaimer: Still don't own a thing! Amanda Price is ITV's and everything belongs to Jane Austen!**

**Author's Note: A little sneak peek for the sequel is at the end!**

**Special Thanks: Fire Dolphin, Marte, Natsumi Tsuchi-Ookami , Edward is Mine95, and This Is!**

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**Chapter 14 – All Good Things Must End**

_Everybody likes to go their own way-to choose their own time and manner of devotion -__Jane Austen_

The next morning I wake up with a start; reaching for my cell phone (which by now was fully charged especially after my foray into Regency England). I squint at the clock as it blinks, the ever-annoying, 5:00 AM into my eyes. I groan, for, I have to get something off my chest, but, know the Leigh is probably sound asleep by now.

"The hell with it," I shrug, "he'll forgive me."

I dial his number and wait until I hear a click and a groggy, "Hello?"

"Hi," I say a shade too brightly.

"Amanda?" I hear a fumbling sound and know that he has looked at the clock. "It is 5:00 AM. Is something wrong?"

I take in a deep breath and babble, "You see, the whole time paradox, parallel universe, you know, stuff."

Leigh yawns, "What exactly are you trying to say, my dear?"

"I don't think writing my mum letters will work! We're not going back in time! We're going to a book! I mean, time doesn't exist in a book! So, if I write my mum letters, it wouldn't work!"

There is a pause.

"I know."

"Well," I flip out, "why didn't you tell me? I want to see my mum everyday! Don't you understand! She's my best friend! I can't live without her!"

"Dearest," Leigh soothes, "do try and calm your nerves."

I sniffle, "How can I calm my nerves? A mother is the greatest comfort a girl can ever know!"

"This is precisely why she's coming with us."

"Leigh," I warn, "it is too early in the morning to be joking."

"It is also too early in the morning to call," Leigh chides, "but, that did not stop you."

I laugh, "I can almost see your smile."

"And," Leigh continues, "I can almost see yours, therefore, I must say I am doing a good job."

"Indeed," I smile. "I should let you go.

"Yes," Leigh yawns again, "and please do not worry. Good night."

"Night."

The next day, Leigh and I talk to my mother (who obviously does not believe us and thinks we are both nuts). We explain what happened and how we were transported to Pride and Prejudice via a portal.

"Does this mean we have to faint to go through the portal?"

"I don't think so," Leigh speaks up. "You usually can walk into a portal. But, I'll have to look into this."

"Look into this?" My mother laughs, "That's rich!"

"Mum," I reason, "you don't have to believe us. But, if I do end up going back -"

"Mandy -"

I know that when my mother calls me _Mandy_ it means that I am in _big_ trouble like the time I spilled grape juice on the carpet and made the dog sit where the spill was. Eventually, our dog had to move and my mum had called me _Mandy_ then.

"Amanda," I correct her.

"Mandy," my mum continues as I tighten my jaw, "you have taken your obsession with Pride and Prejudice too far."

I take in a deep breath, "Look, mum, in the event -"

"Highly unlikely event," my mum interrupts.

"Yes, well," I can feel myself get hot with frustration, "would you come with me?"

My mom hesitates, "Of course. You're my little Mandy."

"MUM!"

"Sorry, sorry," she hugs me. "I would go anywhere with you."

"Okay." I smile, "Now that that's done I have to go choose my wedding cake and-"

"Hey!" My mum laughs, "I'm not done hugging you yet!"

It seems as though the months have flown by, for, it is the first of April. I am wearing the same dress that I had worn when we were in Pride and Prejudice Land (the Jane Austen NeverNeverLand as I like to call it).

My mother, though skeptical about the portal situation, stands by my side; holding my arm as I walk towards Leigh. Pirhana is behind me as my maid of honor. Finally, I am standing beside Leigh and the priest opens his mouth to speak, "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today in the presence of …"

Suddenly, a portal opens and I take my mother's hand and Leigh's hand and together we walk through the portal. I can hear my mother gasping, for, I have proved her wrong. It feels as though I am being pulled apart as I go through the portal and then … all is clear and Leigh is standing beside me only the priest is different.

The priest goes on as if nothing extraordinary happened, "these witnesses, to join Mr. Darcy of Pemberley and Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn in matrimony, which is commended to be honorable among all men; and therefore – is not by any – to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly – but reverently, discreetly, advisedly and solemnly. Into this holy estate these two persons present now come to be joined. If any person can show just cause why they may not be joined together – let them speak now or forever hold their peace."

I turn to see my mother, tears in her eyes, as she nods towards me.

"You may kiss the bride."

Leigh turns towards me and pushes the veil off my face. "I love you," he whispers and kisses me.

I throw the bouquet backwards only to have Lydia catch the bouquet and squeal in delight that she was to be married next. As we sit in our carriage, our party comes out to wave us good-bye, and I wave happily back. I turn towards Leigh, "And they lived happily ever after."

The carriage moves away and he turns towards me, "We are happy and will always be. However, this is the beginning of our life together. Not the end."

**The End**

**Lost in a New World – Preview**

**Chapter 1**

She stood in what seemed to be the closet of a man. The scent of vanilla lined the lined the inside of the closet. She sifted through pants, shirts, and jackets until she found some that fit.

Constance Darcy was an impressionable young lady, sixteen years of age, and outwardly did not like her newfound curves that seemed to have been conjured up by some kind of dark magic overnight. Inwardly, she felt beautiful and that she was slowly becoming like her mother (an honor for her).

She possessed dark brown; expressive eyes that were highlighted by slightly wavy reddish brown hair. It seemed the only thing that she had inherited from her father was his hair texture and his temper.

She wanted to hide her curves in looser clothing and what better, she thought, than her father's wardrobe. She changed into a pair of black pants, black riding boots, black jacket, and white shirt. The latter of which had a knot-like scarf sewn into it; this she particularly liked.

She moved a box back and a book fell hard upon the ground. She stooped to pick it up; only to see that it was not _just_ a book. It was a diary.

She crossed over the threshold of the closet and into her parents' bedroom. She sat upon her father's chair and crossed her legs upon the ottoman in front of her; heavy black boots and all. She opened the diary and began to read a passage.

_April 2_

_Dear Diary,_

_Leigh has given me a diary to write everything in._

_I suppose I should say what I'm so worried about. My mom just went back home, for, she found that she can go back and forth between portals. It is only Leigh and I that can only go back and forth once every year on April 1. For, as the old saying goes, "We are fools in love." She believes that it is easier for her to live in modern times and visit me here._

Constance was broken away from her reading as soon as she heard a gruff voice ask, "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like," she monotonously said; not moving her eyes from the diary.

"First of all," Darcy snatched the diary from her hands, "those are your mother's private thoughts." He looked back at her, "Secondly, you are a lady of proper breeding."

"Blah, blah, blah," she sighed.

"You of all people," Darcy continued, "know that a lady does not wear men's fashion."

"Does it matter now?" She asked, "I'm only sixteen."

"Girls are married at this age."

"Mother got married at twenty-eight."

"That was different."

"How so?" Constance argued, "Just because I'm sixteen does not mean anything."

Silence.

"Father," Constance looked up, "Why did mother write about portals in her diary? And, who is Leigh?"

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	16. Part II Chapter 1 Sweet Charity

**Disclaimer – Jane Austen owns Mr. Darcy … ITV owns Amanda Price…I just own my random characters and Constance Darcy.**

**Authors Note: I decided to not do a separate sequel but just continue this one with a part II. This will be told in a different voice (narration instead of first person).**

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**Lost in Austen Reborn Part II – Lost in a New World**

**Chapter 1 - Sweet Charity**

_Where so many hours have been spent in convincing myself that I am right, is there not some reason to fear I may be wrong? - Jane Austen_

She stood in what seemed to be the closet of a man. Riding pants, cravat shirts, and jackets lined the walls. It was a man's world in here and she quite liked it. The scent of vanilla and musk tickled her nose and she smiled; inhaling the scent. She sifted through pants, shirts, and jackets until she found some that fit.

Constance Darcy was an impressionable young woman, sixteen years of age, and outwardly did not like her newfound curves that seemed to have been conjured up by some kind of dark magic overnight. Inwardly, she felt beautiful and that she was slowly becoming like her mother (an honor for her). She possessed dark brown; expressive eyes that were highlighted by slightly wavy reddish brown hair. It seemed the only thing that she had inherited from her father was his hair texture and his temper.

She wanted to hide her curves in looser clothing and what better, she thought, than her father's wardrobe. She changed into a pair of black pants, black riding boots, black jacket, and white shirt. The latter of which had a knot-like scarf sewn into it; this she particularly liked. She wished with all her might that she could have been a man. She had seen too much of society to want to be a woman. After all, they were treated like the lesser sex and Constance knew that she was anything but.

She moved a box back in an attempt to reach for her father's top hat collection and a book fell hard upon the ground. She stooped to pick it up, only to see that it was not _just_ a book. It was a diary. Her fingers grazed the leather cover; wanting to open it but fearing what she might find. She bit her lower lip; debating with herself and opened the cover to look inside. The diary read the name: Amanda Price.

"Amanda Price?" Constance said aloud.

She crossed over the threshold of the closet and into her parents' bedroom. She sat upon her father's chair and crossed her legs upon the ottoman in front of her, heavy black boots and all. She opened the diary and began to read a passage.

_April 2_

_Dear Diary,_

_Leigh has given me a diary to write everything._

_I suppose I should say what I am so worried about. My mum just went back home. She found that she can go back and forth between portals. It is only Leigh and I that can only go back and forth once every year on April 1. For, as the old saying goes, "We are fools in love." She believes that it is easier for her to live in modern times and visit me here… I sometimes feel that coming here was a mistake. Should Leigh and I have stayed back?_

Constance was broken away from her reading as soon as she heard a gruff voice ask, "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like," she monotonously said, not moving her eyes from the diary.

"First of all," Darcy snatched the diary from her hands, "those are your mother's private thoughts."

"But, it says Amanda Price." Constance crinkled her brow, "Not Elizabeth Bennet."

He looked back at her, changing the subject, "Secondly, you are a lady of proper breeding."

"Blah, blah, blah," she sighed.

"You of all people," Darcy continued, "know that a lady does not wear men's fashion."

"Does it matter now?" She asked, "I am only sixteen."

"Girls are married at this age."

"Mother got married at twenty."

"That was different."

"How so?" Constance argued, "Just because I am sixteen does not mean anything."

Silence.

"Father," Constance looked up, "who is Amanda Price? And, who is Leigh?"

Darcy muttered softly, "Old friends."

"Then how come I have never met them," Constance raised an eyebrow.

"They live far away."

"Just like everyone else," Constance sighed, "I should think it a wonder how you have survived all these years in Pember-_Hell_."

"Mind your tongue," Darcy sternly spoke.

"Why?" Constance scoffed, "Why should I not say Hell? Priests get to say it, so, why can't I?"

"Do not use such language in my house."

"Fine," Constance sighed.

"You should change into something more suitable."

"Why?" Constance asked.

"There will be a ball tonight."

"Another ball?" Constance shoulders slumped, "Another party full of mindless chatter and gossip about me and why I cannot be proper and why I am not engaged yet or why I am not married yet. I hate it. Why-"

Constance made a face of disgust as Darcy cut her off, "Your mother and I expect you to be presentable."

"Father, I love the dressing up part." Constance shook her head, "It's the whole being at the party that I do not like. I cannot expect you to understand."

Darcy raised an eyebrow, "You must get used to it. It is different for men, I know." Darcy softened, "But, you cannot change who you are."

"I am quite certain I can," Constance smirked and gestured at her getup, "How am I not presentable now?"

"Constance," Darcy firmly stated.

All Constance's father had to do was say her name in a stern voice and she would cringe. "Yes, father," Constance muttered, "I will make myself presentable."

"Good," Darcy walked out of the room, "now go find your mother. She has been wanting to talk to you." He closed the door behind him.

Constance changed back into her dress; dumping the rest of her father's clothes in a pile on the floor of the closet. She walked out of the room; strolling through the corridors of Pemberley as though she was a tourist. She paused by a sculpture staring at it as though she had never seen it before. She walked on until she reached a French door that opened into a drawing room. Her mother sat in the room; reading by the fire. Constance cleared her throat and her mother looked up with a kind smile upon her features.

"Come here," her mother, Elizabeth, smiled with open arms.

Constance smiled as she gave her mother a hug. "Father was rather cross to find me trying his clothes on."

"I would rather have you dress like a man than wear the latest Paris fashion," Elizabeth cringed. "Have you seen their clothes? It's like they've never heard of comfort or modesty!"

"Why don't you tell father that?"

"Maybe I should," Elizabeth laughed. "But, then he'd stop buying us clothing from Paris and then where would we be."

"Mother," Constance whined, "why's he such an-"

"Ass?"

"Mother!" Constance laughed, "Well, why's he like that?"

"I think," Elizabeth paused, "he's been brought up differently."

"That doesn't excuse him from anything." Constance sighed, "He doesn't know how to have fun! He's so - so dull!"

Elizabeth smiled, "I used to think the same until I got to know him better."

Constance sighed, "The more I get to know of father … the more I want to run away and never come back!"

Elizabeth shook her head, "He is only trying to set an example for you."

"Oh," Constance groaned, "and you're on his side now?"

"I am not taking sides," Elizabeth bit her tongue to stop her from saying more.

"Mother, my only option is to run away and never come back."

"Stop being dramatic and get dressed for the ball."

Constance sighed, "I thought you would understand."

Elizabeth stood up, setting her book aside. "Understand what? What is so bad that your life is now over? You have a house over your head, food in your belly, two parents that love you, and all the riches you could possibly want. How is that not enough?" Elizabeth glared at her daughter, "Now, stop being a spoiled brat and get dressed for the ball."

Constance flushed with embarrassment and turned to leave the room. Her mother had never spoken to her like that before. Was she as spoiled as they thought she was? "Maybe if I leave," Constance thought tearfully in her bedroom, "it would benefit them."

Constance's maid entered the room and readied her for the ball. Her maid pulled the corset over her head; tying the stays so tight that Constance felt she could not breathe. The dress was beautiful and had been imported from France. It was silk with georgette sleeves so sheer that even her mother would blush. The sleeves looked like gossamer wings that just barely hid her creamy shoulders. Like all fashions, the waistline was under the bust and the skirt floated around her.

"Do you ever wish that you were a man?" Constance asked her maid as she sat in front of her vanity.

"Can't say that I have," her maid, Betsy, smiled kindly.

"Why?"

"There's so much beauty involved with being a woman." Betsy gathered all the hair pins and began to brush Constance's hair.

"Don't you want to be more than pretty?" Constance sighed, "I want to change the world but I cannot do that from behind my fan. I cannot do anything, but, sit pretty because that is what society wants. I feel that I have no purpose."

"Well, ma'am," Betsy shrugged, "no one is stopping you from doing the world some good but yourself. If you want to help, you have to go out and do it yourself."

Constance nodded, "I believe you are correct. There are several charities that I can involve myself in and still be a proper lady."

Betsy smiled, "There now, see, it's not so bad, ma'am. Now let me see you smile."

Constance beamed brightly into the mirror; fueled by the pep talk that she had had with Betsy and by the notion that she might not be so useless after all. Her maid pinned her hair in place; letting loose curls fall around the nape of her neck. Constance looked in the mirror with a small smile. She looked like a young lady of proper breeding.

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	17. Part II Chapter 2 All Went Black

**Disclaimer – Jane Austen owns Mr. Darcy and ITV owns Amanda Price. I own the rights to Constance Darcy.**

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**Chapter 2 - All Went Black**

****_There is nothing like staying at home for real comfort. - Jane Austen_

She stared at herself in the mirror. Tonight was not just a ball and she knew it in the back of her mind. It was her one chance to shine; to let others see a completely new, eligibly beautiful side of her. A side that she was not sure she even wanted to show. After all, it was the season and a midsummer ball was just the ticket to her _security_.

"Is this really me?" Constance thought as she turned her head slowly from side to side; trying to see every angle. Her reflection revealed a young woman about to embark on a journey. She had an indescribable feeling that something was going to happen but she did not know if it would be good or bad. Her intuition was rarely ever wrong and she chalked it up to being a woman.

A soft knock on the door broke her gaze with the mirror. Betsy opened the door; letting Elizabeth into the room. The maid curtsied and left the room, closing the door behind her. Constance stood up, smoothing the wrinkles out of her dress. Her cream silk empire-waist dress was revealing and modest at the same time. The dress was quite simple lest for a pearl-beaded braid of silk around her waistline. The puffed sleeves were made from georgette; revealing her pale shoulders. Her reticule was made from the same braided trim and material as the dress.

"Are you ready yet?" Elizabeth asked.

"Yes, I think so." Constance gave her reflection one last look. She opened her tin of Rigge's Liquid Bloom and swirled the rose salve upon her lips.

"You look beautiful," Elizabeth kissed her daughter on the forehead.

"Mother, are you crying?" Constance looked down uncomfortably.

"My daughter is all grown up," Elizabeth smiled behind tears.

"You act as though you shall never see me again!" Constance laughed, "It is only a ball. No man shall take me away from here that easily!"

Elizabeth shook her head, "I do not want you to leave us, but, in time you will have to and I shall miss you so much."

Constance blew a raspberry, "Mother, please. I haven't even left my room yet!"

Elizabeth laughed, "You look so grown up. It is bound to happen."

Constance groaned, "I don't want to grow up. Look what it has done to father. You'd think he was born that way."

Elizabeth took in a deep breath, "I used to feel the same. Your father is a man of few words but he loves you."

Constance made a face, "Yes, I know."

Elizabeth smiled, "One day, you will understand him."

Constance nodded, "I know mother."

Elizabeth opened the door and turned towards Constance, "Wait a few minutes and then walk down the stairs. I want you to have your grand entrance."

Constance sighed sagely, "Of course."

When three minutes had passed, Constance walked out of her room and took in a nervous breath as she descended the double staircase. Her mind kept on reminding her not to fall down and she held tightly onto the banister; a smile that she most certainly did not feel was plastered upon her features. People stood in circles throughout the ballroom as they caught up on the latest scandals and juicy gossip. Some men stood to the side; concerning themselves with their glass of champagne and the score of the latest cricket match. Latest everything. Latest gossip, latest sports news, latest fashion. Everyone was dressed to the nines. The entire room was a rainbow of color, full of dresses from various parts of England and France. These dresses swirled as their wearers danced the quadrille. The music was boisterous and lively. It made Constance smile brightly.

Constance felt a prickly sensation on the back of her neck and she turned around to see a young man watching her. He held his champagne glass in suspension as though he were about to take a sip but decided against it. He stared at her with parted lips as though he were surprised. Constance suddenly felt as though something was wrong and she passed by a mirror to make sure she did not have some oddity hanging off her nose. No, she looked perfectly fine and smiled in relief.

He was quite handsome. He had dark brown almost black hair and eyes that shined as he looked at her. Though she figured, his eyes were shining from the large chandelier that had the entire ballroom basking in the warm ambiance of candlelight. She looked back to find him still watching her with interest and a small smile crept upon her features as she thought, "Maybe I should not think about leaving this place after all."

The boy began to walk towards her when Caroline Bingley stood in front of him. "Constance," Caroline said through her smile, "pray, why are you not dancing?"

Constance smiled, "I have only just entered the room."

Caroline softly chuckled, "And you could not find a partner? Such a pity! What a waste of a lovely dress."

Constance smirked, "It is common practice to not dance while entering a room. But, I assume that you do not practice what is common … including sense."

Caroline's jaw dropped at Constance's insolence, "I shall speak to your father about your behavior. You should not speak to your elders in such a manner."

"Go on, Aunt Caroline, talk to my father and tell him what an abhorrent little girl I am." Constance snidely added, "If you want to admit how old you are."

"I see that this attitude of yours was not from your father's side."

"I see that your snobbery," Constance smirked, "has not gone out of style yet and the London Season hasn't even started yet."

Caroline turned red and it seemed that her neck would burst as she tried to hold in her anger. Suddenly, without warning, she slapped Constance across the face. Constance's head snapped to the side as hot tears of pain began to sting her eyes. The slap reverberated through the room, there was a sharp screech as the orchestra stopped playing the quadrille and many people stopped talking to see what the commotion was.

The boy walked towards Constance, "Are you -"

"I'm fine," Constance took a sharp breath in; trying to remain calm, but it was easy to tell that she was visibly shaken.

Elizabeth walked towards Caroline and through clenched teeth shouted, "How dare you strike my child!"

Darcy moved between Elizabeth and Caroline as if he were negotiating a peace treaty. "You know how rotten a girl she is, Elizabeth," Caroline called out.

"She is not rotten."

Caroline laughed, "Comme mère comme fille."

Those who knew French laughed at Elizabeth's expense. Elizabeth looked up at Darcy and noticed that he was furiously looking at Caroline. "Speak English, Caroline. You are not in France," Elizabeth boldly stated.

"Do you really want to know the translation?"

Darcy stood protectively beside Elizabeth. Caroline's eyes narrowed, "I said … like mother like daughter."

Elizabeth's mouth hung open and for a moment she thought of nothing else but how much she wanted to punch Caroline Bingley square in her _bum face_. Instead, she coolly looked at Caroline, "Then I suppose that the saying goes for you too and I can only assume the worst." Elizabeth bowed curtly and walked towards her daughter and a very attentive young man.

Constance was sitting in a chair, holding her hand to her hand to her face and staring at the ground. She had never been slapped across the face before, let alone publically. Embarrassment washed over her as the boy offered her a glass of punch, "Are you quite certain that you are well?"

Constance shook her head, "I shall be fine. I am more embarrassed, truth be told, than physically injured."

"Constance," Elizabeth sighed, "what did you say to Caroline to make her do such a thing?"

"It was my fault really," Constance kept her eyes down. "If I had not jested at her expense-"

"That still does not give her the right to strike you," Elizabeth vented. "If everyone were to slap those who teased them … well, your father would be in big trouble."

"Mother!"

Darcy's voice replied from behind his wife, "If it were proper decorum to slap those who had been slighted in the acutest form; I think that Elizabeth would have done so when we first met."

"Oh no sir," Elizabeth laughed. "I do not lift a finger to those who think me … what was it … _barely tolerable_."

Constance laughed heartily at her father's shocked features. He smiled awkwardly, "She will never let that go. Perhaps, I should have called her _slightly tolerable_."

"But, father," Constance said in amusement, "that's the same thing."

Darcy brought his eyes to Constance and suddenly, she wished that she had not spoken. "Constance, you do realize that this scene could have been averted. You could have just smiled and walked away."

Constance looked at her father in disbelief. How could he go from happy to cantankerous in one second? "I don't walk away from anything," Constance muttered lowly.

Elizabeth took her daughter's side. "Look, who slaps someone at a party … just for making fun of them. It's immature. If you want to kick someone out … kick Caroline out."

"If you do not wish to be sent to your room," Darcy sternly spoke; ignoring Elizabeth, "you will do what I say."

"You cannot punish me. Not until mother says so too," Constance looked over at Elizabeth.

Impatiently, Darcy stormed away and Constance was filled with guilt for having made her father angry with her. She looked at her mother and asked, "Do you think I should just go to my room?"

Elizabeth smiled softly, "Perhaps that is a better idea. You were not having fun anyway and I know that you hate these parties."

"I do," Constance looked down sheepishly. "Should I apologize to Aunt Caroline and try to smooth things over?"

Elizabeth's eyes flashed, "Not on your life."

Constance sighed, "Wouldn't it make everything better?"

Elizabeth shook her head, "No. It would make everything peaceful, but people would view you as weak. Be strong," Elizabeth kissed her daughter on the cheek, "go upstairs and let Caroline wallow in her self-pity."

Constance smiled at her mother as she turned towards the boy. Her breath caught in her chest as she looked upon him. She had spent her time loathing Caroline that she had not truly noticed how hazel the boy's eyes were and how he smiled when he spoke her name.

"Constance?"

Constance blushed, "I feel so ashamed now. For, you know my name and I have never heard yours."

"James Shelton," he bowed.

"Why is that we have not met previously," Constance asked.

"I am new to this area of England."

"Do you like Derbyshire?"

"I confess," Mr. Shelton made a face, "that I found it rather boring … until now."

"Good," Constance thought to herself, "I shall keep him on his toes then."

Constance smiled back at James, "I really must take my leave."

James looked surprised, "So soon? The party has not even begun."

Constance opened her mouth to speak, but, the voice of her father echoed behind her, "Constance, were you not to go to your room?"

Wishing that a trap door were beneath her, Constance found herself running away from the ballroom, tears of embarrassment rolling down her cheeks. She opened the French doors to the garden where her parents had once married some years ago. She stood by the threshold and found herself grow weary, as though she were being pulled forward by an unknown force and then, all went black.

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	18. Part II Chapter 3 Silly Girls & Marriage

**Disclaimer – Jane Austen owns Mr. Darcy and ITV own Amanda Price. I own the rights to Constance Darcy.**

**Special Thanks – LucifersAngel23**

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**Chapter 3 - Silly Girls & Marriage**

_Silly things do cease to be silly if they are done by sensible people in an impudent way. - Jane Austen_**  
**

Elizabeth sighed as she watched Constance run out of the ball. If it had not been enough that Constance was at an impressionable age, her father had embarrassed her in front of a potential suitor. She was torn between following Constance and giving her husband a stern talking to and goodness knows he needed it. She wanted to scream but since they were at a ball and too many scenes had already been created for one night, she decided to speak with a civil tongue. As civil as an angry mother could get.

Feeling the sting of understanding how it felt to be a teenager, Elizabeth walked towards Darcy and demanded, "Must you antagonize her so."

"She must know to not act like a silly girl anymore. Most _silly girls_ her age are getting married."

"You must know," Elizabeth's eyes blazed, "that you married a _silly girl_."

Darcy smiled thinly as Elizabeth continued, "She is easily influenced by her surroundings." She shook her head, "It is an age when nothing seems to fit right and when you look at your bum in the mirror… you think; why can't I look like that girl in the fashion glossy?"

Darcy uncomfortably exchanged looks with James Shelton (who was still standing across from Darcy). James looked down and shuffled his feet wondering what a _fashion glossy_ was but did not want to ask lest he look misinformed. Anyway, James Shelton felt the outsider in this conversation and decided that being quiet would suffice. He felt a bit trapped between wanting to run away as Constance had and standing his ground like a proper gentleman. The latter sounded good to him but he wondered, with a small smile, how Constance could bear listening to this every day.

"Thank you for enlightening us on the plights of young women," Darcy said with disdain.

"You wouldn't know," Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, "seeing how you almost lost me due to your cluelessness and your own daughter has just run away from you."

Darcy took in a deep breath as Elizabeth turned away from him. She walked out of the ballroom hot on Constance's trail. She saw Constance running through the corridor that led to the courtyard. Constance opened the French doors and Elizabeth called out her daughter's name. Constance did not hear her mother as she shut the doors behind her. When Elizabeth reached the doors, she watched helplessly as her daughter was sucked into a portal.

Elizabeth swiftly opened the French doors, "Constance!" Nevertheless, it was too late. Her daughter was gone. Elizabeth stared blankly ahead. She never thought that this would happen again especially since the portal had stopped working. No, this couldn't have happened.

Finally, Elizabeth came to and she collapsed to her knees. The cold, wet grass soaked into her white dress as she panicked, "Oh no! Oh no!" She found it hard to breath and heard someone running up to her. She looked up to see her husband had concerned eyes, "Elizabeth?"

"Stop it," she shook her head. "I'm not Elizabeth and you know it. I'm Amanda Price-Pember and you're Leigh Pember and we need to go back."

"Elizabeth," he continued despite Amanda's protests; trying to keep up appearances. "What happened?"

"Oh dear," a haughty voice criticized, "look at her petticoat. _Six inches deep in mud_ as usual."

"Caroline," Darcy said through clenched teeth, "please leave."

"Pardon me," Caroline looked affronted and sashayed through the garden as though Pemberley were hers.

"She's gone," Amanda shivered.

"Yes," Darcy scooped Amanda up in her arms and carried her back inside, "I told her to leave."

"No. Not Caroline," Amanda shook her head and leaned her head against Darcy's chest, "Constance is gone."

Darcy sighed, "Where did she go?"

Amanda began to cry and Darcy carried her upstairs to bed. The party was still going on but it would have to do so without the host. He set her gently upon the bed and watched as she restlessly fretted about her daughter.

"She will be punished for putting you into such a state," Darcy said gruffly.

"No," Amanda cried; burying her face into her pillow, "No! It's not her fault that she's gone."

"Whose fault is it?" Darcy crossed his arms as though preparing himself for the blame.

"It is no one's fault," Amanda said through the pillow; muffling her voice.

"Where did she go?"

Amanda turned to look up at Darcy, "Through the portal."

"What are you talking about?"

"She went through the portal," Amanda repeated.

"Then," Darcy looked down, "this is a breakthrough for us."

"Our child is gone and that's all you can think about."

"Well, as a matter of fact, yes." Darcy ignored Amanda, "It is a breakthrough for us after all. We can go back and forth as we please again."

"The portal doesn't work for us anymore."

Darcy blinked, "But, I thought you said-"

"It's broken," Amanda stated flatly.

"Apparently not," Darcy raised an eyebrow. "It just doesn't seem to be-"

"But, why is it not working for us?"

"I think the portal does not work for us anymore because our destiny is here," Darcy concluded.

"But, we're not even Elizabeth and Darcy."

"No." Darcy shook his head, "No. We are Elizabeth and Darcy. But, we are also Amanda and Leigh. Our destiny is here because what would the world be like without Elizabeth and Darcy."

"Less complicated," Amanda pouted, "I can tell you that."

Darcy furrowed his brow, "Here we go again."

"No. _No_! Not here we go again," Amanda sat up in bed; staring daggers at her husband. "Have you no compassion-"

"For your poor nerves?" Darcy smirked, tilting his head to the side.

"Ugh!" Amanda groaned in frustration, "You don't understand. You don't get it."

"What do I not understand, my dear?"

Amanda said in a rush, "I mean I can't use my mobile here. No signal and I can't call my mum and ask her to drop off Constance! It doesn't work that way!" Amanda's breath quickened, "Oh no! My poor daughter! Sh-she's in Hammersmith! Dressed as if … as if she belongs in a Jane Austen novel! Oh no! Something bad could happen! Have you lived in England in the 21st Century? Oh god! She hasn't even seen a car! Oh no! I can't breathe!" Amanda took in a deep breath according to Darcy's instructions and watched as he poured her a glass of water from her bedside carafe.

Graciously, Amanda accepted the glass of water. She took in a deep breath as the cool liquid coursed down her body. She glanced sidelong at her husband, "Now do you get it?"

"I _get _it," Darcy sat beside her; smoothing her hair away from her face, "Amanda, you need to calm down. The portal leads to the Republic of Pemberley. Your mother owns the club now. Pirhana works there too. So, you see, my love, she's in safe hands."

Amanda sighed deeply, "I hope you're right."

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	19. Part II Chapter 4 Lost in a New World

**Disclaimer – Jane Austen owns Mr. Darcy and ITV own Amanda Price. I own the rights to Constance Darcy. I do not own the rights to Lady Gaga "Just Dance."**

**Author's Note – Apologize for the delay in posting this. I hope that now that the holidays are over I can post once a week again! Also, did they ever say what Amanda's mothers name was? I don't think they did …**

**Special Thanks - ****LucifersAngel23**

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**Part II Chapter 4 – Lost in a New World**

_Everyone likes to go their own way – to choose their own time and manner of devotion. – Jane Austen_

Constance's head began to throb and she feared opening her eyes. The only calming that she felt was a cooling sensation on her right cheek. Gradually, she opened her eyes and found that she was lying upon a floor that changed color. She squinted and stared at the floor, its colored squares changing from blue to red to green in the span of five seconds. She turned over and stared up at a ceiling. She blinked, for, she could not believe her eyes. There was light, but no candles. How could this be?

She continued to stare at the ceiling. She feared moving or standing up. Maybe, she thought to herself, if I close my eyes again, I shall wake up in bed and this will all be a bad dream. She squeezed her eyes shut and counted to ten. When she reopened her eyes, she found that nothing had changed.

She sprang to her feet. Feeling dizzy, she leaned against a wall and took everything in. This place looked familiar but so strange at the same time. Her head throbbed again and she groaned in discomfort. She took in a quivering breath and held up a hand to shield the bright light.

Those lights were so bright.

In the corner of her eye, was some sort of light that flickered to the beat of music. Blue and white lights.

Music? She had never heard _this_ kind of music before. It was most decidedly not Ludwig Van Beethoven or any of the composers she had grown accustomed to.

There were several people. Men and women sat on opposite sides of the room. The men watched the women and vice versa. It seemed as though the men were mustering up the courage to make their move. One brave man ventured towards the opposite side and politely asked if the woman he had been eyeing wanted to dance. She obliged and they walked arm in arm towards the dance floor. Men and women were dancing the quadrille to this peculiar music.

Red one, Konvict, Gaga.  
I've had a little bit too much  
All of the people start to rush, Start to rush by  
How does he twist the dance? Can't find my drink, oh man  
Where are my keys? I lost my phone

She furrowed her brow. What was a _phone_? She tried her best to tune the song out and turned her attention towards a group of people that looked as though their hair was an iridescent blue color. She stepped away from the floor, leaning upon the wall for support. Where was she? She wished that she had stayed home and had listened to her father.

What's going on, on the floor?  
I love this record baby but I can't see straight anymore  
Keep it cool, what's the name of this club?  
I can't remember, but it's alright, alright

She needed to get out of here and fast. She ran through the club and bumped into a young woman holding a plate of glasses. The glasses fell to the ground; shattering on impact. The woman seemed more concerned with Constance than she had with the broken glasses.

Just dance, gonna be okay  
Da da doo doo-mmm  
Just dance, spin that record babe  
Da da doo doo-mmm  
Just dance, gonna be okay  
D-D-D-Dance, dance, dance, just  
J-J-Just dance

"Are you all right, miss?"

Constance jumped back. For some strange reason, she had not expected these individuals to speak English. "I-I think so."

"If you don't mind me saying," the girl ran a hand through her curly black hair, "you don't seem fine."

"C-can you tell me where I am?"

"You're in the Republic of Pemberley. It's an anti-club club," the girl snickered, "if that makes any sense."

"It does not." Constance paused, "Republic of Pemberley?"

"Yeah." The woman squinted at the girl, "You know we don't tolerate the consumption of alcoholic substances here."

"I beg your pardon," Constance said politely, "but, I am not drunk."

"Sorry. I didn't mean to assume." The woman looked down at the glass, "I better clean this up before someone gets hurt. You should sit down. You don't look too good."

"Where am I?"

"I just told you," the woman led Constance to a sofa, "you're in the Republic of Pemberley."

"No. It's called Pemberley. Not Republic of Pemberley." Constance yelled at the girl, "Why do you keep on calling it that?"

"I was just trying to help. No need to get brassed off."

"What?" Constance shook her head, "Never mind, I need to get out of here. "I-I don't even know what I am doing here. Where am I?"

"You're in the Re-"

"This looks just like home. But, it is most decidedly not. What have I stumbled into, this is madness."

Wish I could shut my playboy mouth  
How'd I turn my shirt inside out? Inside out right  
Control your poison babe, roses have thorns they say,  
And we're all getting hosed tonight!

Before the woman could help her, Constance ran towards the exit. She pushed the door open and stood outside of a busy intersection. Lights emanated from a post in the middle of the street, red, yellow, and green. Through some miracle, she could still hear the song as though it was playing directly above her. She peered up at a circular black contraption and touched it; feeling the vibration of the music.

What's going on, on the floor?  
I love this record baby but I can't see straight anymore  
Keep it cool, what's the name of this club?  
I can't remember, but it's alright, alright

What was that sound? She stood on the sidewalk and gasped as something whizzed past her. More and more machines zoomed past her, all different colors and with four thick, black wheels. Her breathing slowed down when she realized those machines were not out to get her and that they vaguely resembled a _barouche_. She stepped back further towards the door that she had walked out from and watched in curiosity, for, while these devices resembled carriages, they were unquestionably not that.

Just dance, gonna be okay  
Da da doo doo-mmm  
Just dance, spin that record babe  
Da da doo doo-mmm  
Just dance, gonna be okay  
D-D-D-Dance, dance, dance, just  
J-J-Just dance

The song went on without a care. She paced the front of the Republic of Pemberley back and forth, debating whether to leave and try to find something familiar or to walk back into this place. She thought to herself that though this place seemed bizarre to her, it was a lot stranger out here.

When I come through on the dance floor checkin' out that catalogue  
Can't believe my eyes so many women without a flaw  
And I ain't gonna give it up, steady trying to pick it up like a car  
Imma hit it, Imma hit and flex and do it until tomorrow yeah

She frowned and wondered why this song sounded so _aggressive_. She had just seen a world that she knew nothing about. Those contraptions sped by without need of a horse and that red-yellow-green lightpost seemed to control them.

I can see that you got so much energy  
The way you twirling up them hips round and round  
And there is no reason at all why you can't leave here with me  
In the mean time let me watch you break it down and

dance, gonna be okay  
Da da doo doo-mmm  
Just dance, spin that record babe  
Da da doo doo-mmm  
Just dance, gonna be okay  
D-D-D-Dance, dance, dance, just  
J-J-Just dance

She pushed the door to the Republic of Pemberley open and saw the woman that she had spoken with was talking to another older woman. The older woman turned and looked at Constance with a shocked expression upon her features. They both began to approach her.

Half psychotic sick hypnotic got my blueprint it's symphonic  
Half psychotic sick hypnotic got my blueprint it's electronic  
Half psychotic sick hypnotic got my blueprint it's symphonic  
Half psychotic sick hypnotic got my blueprint it's electronic

The older woman reached Constance first while the younger woman dawdled behind; swaying on her tiptoes with a smile as though she knew something and did not want to say. The older woman had short, sandy blonde hair and kind, wrinkled brown eyes. Constance crossed her arms defensively and watched as the older woman spoke, "You seem to be lost."

"Lost does not even begin to describe it," said Constance firmly. "I must ask you again, where am I?"

Go, use your muscle carve it out work it, hustle!  
Don't slow! Drive it, clean it, lights out, bleed it  
Spend the lasto, in your pocko!

The older woman extended her hand, "My name is Kate Price." Constance shook the woman's hand, "Constance Darcy." Constance felt herself calming down slightly by something as familiar as a handshake. She looked at the other woman. The other woman was exotic looking with dark skin the color of coffee with cream. She had almond-shaped eyes the color of amber. Her luxurious, curly, black hair was worn in a style that reminded Constance of a horse's mane.

"Pirhana," the woman extended her hand.

Constance shook Pirhana's hand, "Isn't that a vicious fish?"

Pirhana smiled, "No. It's pronounced Purr-ha-na."

Costance nodded and wondered why she was shaking their hand instead of curtsying. Sure, she had shaken people's hands before but this was only in informal gatherings and after she had been properly introduced to them. Notwithstanding the informalities, she found herself rather liking the behavior of these two women. They were so at ease with their femininity. The way they dressed would have been a scandal in Hertfordshire. Pirhana wore a shiny low-cut silver top with some sort of gray sequined jacket on top with skin-tight pants that left nothing to the imagination. Her shoes seemed to be a marvel of aerodynamics with the heel at least five inches high. Katie wore a rose-colored pink sweater that showed off some of her shoulder and neck with a black pencil skirt and though her shoes were not as brash as Pirhana's; they were still about three inches high which was high for Constance.

Just dance, gonna be okay  
Da da doo doo-mmm  
Just dance, spin that record babe  
Da da doo doo-mmm  
Just dance, gonna be okay  
D-D-D-Dance, dance, dance, just  
J-J-Just dance

"You should sit down. You look a bit peaked," said Kate in a motherly voice.

"Why does everyone think that I am ill?" Constance clenched her jaw, "For the millionth time, where the _hell _am I?"

She saw Pirhana and Kate exchange looks and she eyed them suspiciously. Constance paused to think about the events that had led her here. First, she had run away because her father had embarrassed her and then she had been sucked into something that had given her an awful headache. She had then woken up on the floor in a strange building that looked just like the ballroom at Pemberley only with brighter lights and a color-changing floor and some strange light that made people look blue. Overall, this was a peculiar night.

Kate glanced sidelong at Pirhana, "Do you want to tell her or should I?"

Pirhana pushed Constance down into a chair, "You need to sit for this, okay?"

Kate began, "You are in London."

"I beg to differ," Constance argued, "this is not London."

"Oh it is," Pirhana spoke up, "just not the London you know." She held a newspaper to Constance's face, "Look at the date."

Constance's eyebrows crinkled when she looked at the newspaper in Pirhana's hand. She picked it up and one word stuck out, London. She looked around her, then back at the newspaper, and read the date. Her heart skipped a beat, "2012? But, how?"

* * *

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